


Clarke & the Phantoms

by Sparklyfairymira (myonetruelove)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Julie & The Phantoms, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Love Triangles, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Multiple, Prompt Fill, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:01:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28559487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myonetruelove/pseuds/Sparklyfairymira
Summary: Clarke has not been having a good year and now she's been booted from her music program. To make the day even better? Three ghosts appeared in her mom's studio and they won't leave.Or, The Julie & the Phantoms AU that someone did ask for.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Monty Green/Nathan Miller
Comments: 42
Kudos: 40
Collections: The t100 Writers for BLM Initiative





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [queentheea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/queentheea/gifts).



> Okay, so yesterday I said I was back on track with my one a week prompt posting. Welp, good news—I'm back with another prompt! Turns out this one is going to be a multi-chapter so if you want to see a chapter soon rather than later, feel free to prompt for an update! Otherwise, I'll write it when I can. But I'm SUPER excited about this. The chapter total is an estimation but it won't be more than that. 
> 
> This is a prompt fill for t100 writers for BLM initiative and we are still taking prompts. Please check out [our carrd here](t100fic-for-blm.carrd.co) to see what we're all about. Is there a story idea that you want to read? A song you KNOW needs to be made into a video? Or want a fic trailer done for your fic (because I'm getting quite good at those lol). If you want to donate, but don't know what to prompt we've got you covered there too with [our new prompt board.](https://www.notion.so/t100-Fic-for-BLM-Prompt-Ideas-b71c84406c884099a9682133636abc09)
> 
> If you're interested in seeing what else I'm writing and what my planned publication dates for that is, please check out my Tumblr post [HERE](https://sparklyfairymira.tumblr.com/post/632973715782729728/prompt-fic-updates).

As the last cord fades Bellamy can’t fight the smile forming on his face. He can’t believe that he’s here—that they’re here. This is it, their big break. He sets down his guitar as Murphy, Miller, and Rusty spill off the stage. 

His attention goes to a pretty young blonde waitress who is clapping—which is where the guys are headed. No surprise there. 

“You guys sound amazing. You’re going to blow everyone’s minds tonight.” The girl is grinning at his band as he walks up. “I’ve been in a few bands before and I’ve never seen one that blends as well as you guys do. You’re magic on the stage.”

Bellamy smirks. “Well, thank you.” He extends his hand. “I’m Bellamy. This is Miller, Murphy, and Rusty.” 

“I’m Abby.” Her smile is contagious and it just makes her even more beautiful. “I’ve been following you guys.  _ The Delinquents _ is going places—tonight is just the beginning.”

“You know, I was just thinking that,” Murphy says as he leans forward on the table. “You’re going to be here for the show right?”

Abby gestures around her. “I kind of have to be seeing as I work here.”

“Ignore him, he has zero game.” Bellamy snickers when Murphy grins at him. “Well, we should go grab some food before the show.”

“I’m good, man. I already ate. Don’t want to be too full on stage.” Rusty’s eyes are locked on Abby, making Bellamy roll his eyes. 

“Yeah, whatever,” Murphy mutters, shaking his head before turning back to Abby. “Maybe we’ll see you after the show?”

Abby nods. “I’m sure that can be arranged.”

Miller reaches into his bag, pulling out a cd. “Here’s a copy of our demo—in case you want to listen later too.”

“Hey, thanks.” Abby turns her smile on Miller.

“Alright, boys. Let’s eat. I’m starving.” Bellamy throws his arms around Murphy and Miller’s shoulders. His body is practically shaking from excitement. 

They’re playing Sanctum—the place to be discovered in Arkadia—tonight and they’re going to be huge. He can feel it in his bones. They make their way out the back door and he’s tuning out what Murphy and Miller are saying, not because he doesn’t care, but because he’s too lost in his own thoughts.

As they round the corner of the building he sees that there is already a line forming and he can’t believe it. They’re all there to see his band. 

“Holy shit.” Murphy’s eyes are wide. “The show isn’t for two more hours and they’re already lined up?”

“Don’t worry, Murph,” Miller says. “They’re not here for you. They’re here for the hot drummer.”

“The hot  _ gay  _ drummer you mean?” Murphy raises an eyebrow. “There’s a lot of women in line.”

“Face it, boys. They’re here for this pretty face.” Bellamy laughs because he hopes that they’re there for the music—but it doesn’t hurt that they’re all so damn good looking.

“Whatever,” Miller mutters before shoving Bellamy, and therefore Murphy, away from him.

Bellamy glances in both directions before they step into the street—you can never be too careful after all—when he hears a screaming sound from the line. They’ve been spotted. The boys laugh as they start to jog across the street. 

There’s a loud crashing noise followed by a loud screeching and then nothing. Just blackness.

* * *

Clarke Griffin is not having a good day, but at least it’s over. She pushes into her house calling out, “Dad?” When she doesn’t get a response she assumes that he’s still working. She makes her way to her room, throwing herself on her bed. When her phone goes off she glances at it and sees that it’s her best friend. She considers answering her before deciding against it—she can’t deal with that right now. 

Today she was kicked out of the music program at her school—the thing that she used to look forward to more than anything else in the world. Only now, she can’t bring herself to play. Hence being kicked out of the music program. Diyoza had warned her this was her last chance, but the moment that she’d sat down at the piano she’d frozen up just like she had every other time she’s tried to play for the last year. 

She’s loved music for as long as she can remember. Playing, singing—they’ve always been like breathing to her. It was second nature. But that was when her mom was still alive. 

Clarke closes her eyes against the pain that rushes through her—something she still hasn’t gotten used to even after a year. Music had been something that she shared with her mom—a shared love, a shared passion. Losing her mom took all of the joy out of music. This is why she hasn’t so much as played, sang, or even listened to music in the last year. All it does is bring her pain.

Her eyes fly open when she hears the front door slam shut, letting her know that her dad is home even before he starts calling out to her. “I’m in my room, Dad.”

She pushes down the thoughts of her mom and all the pain that it brings, forcing a smile even as she wonders if her dad has heard that she was booted from the program. Because she’s not going to bring it up if he hasn’t. 

Jake pushes open the door to her room. “Hey, honey. You been home long?”

“No, I just got home.” She begins to pull her books from her backpack. “I was planning to get started on my homework.”

Jake comes to sit down beside her on the bed. “Do you mind if I talk to you for a minute first?”

Clarke barely keeps herself from wincing. Here it comes. He’s going to tell her how disappointed he is in her for giving up on the thing that she loves most in life. How quitters don’t get anywhere in life. Even though these are her own words and her own thoughts, she’s not ready to hear them come from her dad’s mouth just yet. 

“So I got a phone call today,” Jake starts and this time Clarke can’t stop the wince. “From Marcus? Who’s supposed to help us sell the house?”

“Oh, yeah?” Clarke lets out a sigh of relief. He must not know yet. One less thing to have to worry about right now. “What did Marcus have to say?”

Jake gives her a funny look and for a moment Clarke thinks the jig is up—she’s revealed her hand without meaning to. “He said he wants photos for the website. Of course, he wants me to take them because it’s what I do.”

Clarke nods. Her dad is a great photographer—it’s how her parents met in the first place. The band she was in hired him to take pictures of a show they were doing and they always said it was love at first sight. Back then they’d both been struggling artists—now her dad is in high demand, photographing celebrities of all calibers. Her mom had been a songwriter whose songs were sung by all the big names in the music business.

Clarke shakes her head to clear her mind of thoughts of her mom again, the overwhelming sadness threatening to drown her. “That makes sense. He certainly can’t take a good picture to save his life.” She scrolls through her phone to find the most recent selfie her dad’s best friend had taken, showing it to him. “Did you see this?”

Jake takes the phone from her and laughs. Marcus had managed to get a picture that showed him from his nose and up—the picture more of the house in the background than of Marcus. “Yeah, Marcus is a lot of things—good with technology is not one of them.” He shakes his head as he hands the phone back to her. “But if we want to sell the house we need to get good pictures which means cleaning up around here.”

Clarke nods. Selling the house had been her idea. Living here without her mom kills her. She’s always turning a corner, expecting her to be there, but she never is. And she never will be. So she’d asked her dad if they could maybe find somewhere else without all of the memories that this house has and he’d agreed—though she knows it’s just for her sake. He loves this house. 

“So I was hoping that you could go through your mom’s studio? Get it cleaned up—maybe go through the loft to see what we can donate? I know there were a lot of instruments up there when we moved in that we didn’t want to get rid of, but now seems like the time.” Jake sighs.

Clarke nods but takes a moment to just look at her dad. He looks tired and she wonders if he’s pretending as much as she is—pretending that they’re fine without her mom. Because she isn’t fine, but she can’t let him know that. It would break him.

“Sure, Dad. I’ll head out there as soon as I finish my homework.” Clarke gives him a small smile—just another thing she’s faking. She most definitely doesn’t want to go through her mom’s studio. She honestly doesn’t know if she  _ can _ , but she also knows that her dad doesn’t ask much of her so she won’t tell him no. 

“Thanks, honey.” Jake stands, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. “How was your day?” he asks as he straightens.

“It was fine.” Clarke shrugs, telling herself not to panic. “But I really need to get my homework done if you want me to go clean up Mom’s studio.”

“Right. Yeah, of course. Sorry.” Jake shakes his head and shoots her another smile. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Dad.” Clarke smiles and it feels like the first time she isn’t faking. 

Jake heads out, pausing just before pulling the door shut. “I have a shoot in an hour so dinner will be late tonight. Probably around seven.”

“Okay, Dad. See you then.” Clarke waits until she hears his footsteps on the stairs again to fall back onto her bed. He’s going to kill her when he finds out she was kicked out of the music program, but with any luck, it’ll be a few days before he realizes.

She flips open her textbook as she pulls out her notebook. But first, she has to get this homework done so she can head out to the studio. And she’s not going to let herself put it off by taking her time. She just wants to get it over with and then she won’t have to go back out there again.

* * *

Clarke stands outside of the garage that had been her mom’s studio, just staring at it. She’s guessing that she’s probably been out here for at least fifteen minutes already. She doesn’t want to go inside—doesn’t want to see the place that her mom spent most of her time. 

She squares her shoulders. She can do this. She’s Clarke Griffin and she isn’t afraid of anything. Right. With a sigh she opens the door, turning on the light. Glancing around, she realizes it looks just like it did the last time she was out here, with her mom on the morning she died. She wonders if her dad’s come out here at all because she certainly hasn’t seen him do so. 

She walks over to the sheet-covered piano, contemplating for a moment before pulling back the sheet. The piano is dust free from the sheet, but so is everything else, which leads her to believe that her dad  _ has _ been coming out here. He’s stronger than she is. She trails her fingers over the keys, eyes falling shut as she remembers her mom playing here—laughing with her head thrown back at something her dad had just said. 

She jerks her hand away, tears pooling in her eyes. No, she can’t. She can’t think of her mom. She shakes her head and walks over to the ladder that leads to the loft—there are fewer memories of her mom up there. She’ll start there.

She climbs up the ladder, settling onto the floor. She grabs the first box and starts going through it, finding pictures of her parents when they were young. 

_ Nope. _

Clarke pushes that box to the side, reaching for another. She lifts the lid off and finds a t-shirt inside with the words “The Delinquents” on it. She wonders for a moment what that’s all about before tossing it over the railing—she doesn’t know if it should go in the trash or donate pile yet, but she’ll figure that out later. Next, she finds a CD with the same name on it. 

Clarke wonders if it’s from one of the bands her mom was in when she was younger. She climbs back down the ladder, slipping it into the CD player—the desire to hear her mom’s voice outweighing the sadness for the first time in ages. She presses play before plopping down onto the couch, pulling her knees to her chest. 

The song that plays is upbeat and has a bit of a rock edge to it—not her mom’s usual style. Her brow furrows more when a guy starts singing. This isn’t one of her mom’s bands—she was always the singer. So why was this in her mom’s stuff? Not that they’re not good. In fact, she really likes this song—it reminds her of something that she just can’t quite put her finger on.

A distant yelling startles Clarke from her thoughts. “What the hell?” She glances around, trying to figure out where it’s coming from even as it gets louder. 

Just as she starts to bring her hands to her ears there’s a loud popping sound and then suddenly there are three guys laying on her floor. Clarke, being a logical human, screams as they stand up.

All three boys turn toward her, eyes wide as they all let out screams of their own. 

Clarke’s mouth snaps shut as she tries to figure out what the hell just happened. How did they get into her mom’s studio? They appeared out of thin air. That shouldn’t be possible.

“What? How?” Clarke stammers, shaking her head. 

The three boys, who seem to be about her age, look at one another before looking back at her. One of the boys, all dark curls, soulful eyes, and bronzed skin steps forward, eyes narrowed. “What are you doing in our practice space?”

Clarke, never one to back down from a bite, straightens her back and gives him her best eat shit look. “I don’t know who you think you are, but this isn’t yours.” She gestures around the room. “This is my mom’s studio. So if you’ll kindly show yourself out, that would be great. Not that I have any idea how you’re here in the first place.”

The boy frowns at her. “This isn’t your mom’s studio.” He looks around, frowning. “Guys, where’s all of our stuff?”

One of the other boys steps forward, pushing his spiky brown hair off his face. He looks pissed when his eyes land on Clarke. “Did you steal our shit? That’s not cool, man.”

The third boy grabs onto the other two, pulling them backward. “Ummm...can you give us a second?”

Clarke watches in dismay as the three boys huddle up. She can’t hear what they’re saying and she’s not really interested in getting any closer. While she waits for them to finish whatever it is that they’re discussing she looks around the room to see if she can figure out how they got in. 

There’s no hole in the ceiling and all of the walls are intact. The door is still closed. There’s literally no way that they could’ve gotten inside—especially not landing on their backs. It doesn’t make sense. Unless she’s sick and seeing things, but she feels fine. Is she going crazy? Maybe there’s a mold infestation in the studio and she’s hallucinating. While this doesn’t seem likely, it’s the best option she can think of. They have to be a hallucination, right?

“Okay, look.” It’s the third boy who steps forward. “There’s obviously some weird shit going on right now. So let’s start with, I’m Miller. These idiots are Murphy and Bellamy.”

“Clarke.” She probably shouldn’t have told them her name, but if they’re hallucinations, what’s the harm right? “Now why are you in my mom’s studio?”

Bellamy, the first boy, steps forward. “Well, first—we’re dead.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Clarke tilts her head, blinking at him. There’s no way that she heard him correctly. They can’t be dead, it’s not possible. When people are dead they’re just gone. There’s no such thing as ghosts.

“Dead. No longer living? It’s not a hard concept to understand,” the second boy—Murphy rolls his eyes as he turns to look at Miller. “We’re dealing with a smart one here, aren’t we?”

“Okay, look asshole, you’re the ones that randomly showed up at my house and now you’re saying you’re ghosts—which by the way, don’t exist. So how about you just leave?” Clarke is pissed. She was already upset about being here in the first place, about her entire day in general, and now she’s got three random guys claiming to be ghosts being assholes. 

Miller reaches over and slaps the back of Murphy’s head. “Don’t be an ass.”

“Look, we were at a gig last night at Sanctum and I’m not one hundred percent clear on what exactly happened, but I do know that we are, in fact, dead.” Bellamy steps toward her again and Clarke takes a step back.

She takes a deep breath before speaking again. “So say I believe you—which I’m not saying I do.” She doesn’t—she most definitely doesn’t. “Why are you  _ here _ ?”

Bellamy glances back at Miller and Murphy. “I’m not sure. I mean this was where we practiced, but again it looks different.” He shrugs as he looks back at her.

“Okay, then let’s start with this. What’s your band’s name?” Clarke pulls out her phone.

“What is that?” Miller’s eyes are wide as he looks at her phone.

Clarke makes a face before rolling her eyes. “It’s a phone. Now, what’s the name of your band?”

“The Delinquents.” Bellamy gestures toward the CD player. “That’s our demo you’re playing.”

“Really?” Clarke looks up from her phone, brow furrowed. “That was in a box of my mom’s stuff and she’s been dead for a year.” She looks back at her phone, pausing when she realized that she’d just talked about her mom and not been overwhelmed by sadness.

_ Huh. _

Clarke clicks on the link that pops up and almost drops her phone. “Holy shit,” she whispers.

“What?” Bellamy steps towards her again and this time she doesn’t back up.

She doesn’t back up because she’s staring at a picture of the three of them and some other rando that sits atop a news article about how three of the four members of The Delinquents died when they were hit by a bus that spun out of control after it was t-boned by a semi-truck. They hadn’t been the only ones who died.

But that’s not the part that’s throwing her off—it’s the date of the article. “So I believe that you guys are in fact dead.” She looks up from her phone. “But you didn’t die last night—you died twenty-five years ago in 1996.” She holds the phone out so that they can see the screen.

Bellamy tries to grab the phone from her, but his hand passes right through it. “Well, that sucks.” He glances at his hand as he tries again to grab the phone, but it still passes right through. He shakes his head, looking back at the screen. 

“How can we have been dead for twenty-five years?” Murphy shakes his head. “There’s no fucking way.”

“Language!” Clarke yells at the same time as Miller. She turns to him and they both start laughing. She’s laughing with a ghost—is this her life now? Well, at least she knows she’s not hallucinating from toxic mold. That’s a plus, right? 

Miller moves closer to her phone and after glancing at it sits down on the couch, head in his hands. “I don’t understand. It felt like we were only in that room for like, a few hours. How can it have been twenty-five years?”

“How come you can sit on the couch, but you can’t pick up my phone?” Clarke asks looking between Miller and Bellamy.

Miller glances down and suddenly his butt is on the floor and he’s shimmering through the couch. “Well, I  _ was _ sitting on the couch.”

“Look, Princess. We don’t know how any of this works,” Bellamy bites out. “We thought that we’d literally just died and then we popped in here, only to find out that we’ve been dead for over twenty years. Obviously, we don’t know how this ghost stuff works.”

Clarke narrows her eyes, opening her mouth to retort when the door opens and her dad steps inside. 

_ Crap. _

How is she going to explain three random guys in here? She certainly can’t tell him that they’re ghosts. He’ll lock her up for sure. But she’s also pretty sure he’s not going to be okay with her being alone with three boys that he doesn’t know.

“Hey, Clarke. I just wanted to let you know that I’m home and I grabbed us a pizza.” Jake holds his hands as if to stop her from speaking. “I know. I know. It’s not healthy for us, but I just don’t have it in me to cook tonight.”

Clarke just stares at him blankly. Why isn’t he mentioning the guys in the room? She turns her head to make sure they’re still there and Bellamy is much closer than he was a moment ago. She jerks her head back.

“Are you okay, honey?” Jake sounds concerned.

“Huh?” Clarke turns her attention back to her dad. He doesn’t see them, does he?

As if to prove her point Murphy walks over to stand directly in front of her dad, waving his hands in his face. “Holy shit. He can’t see us. Wait, if he can’t see us then why can you?”

Clarke tries to keep her face blank. “Sorry, Dad. I’m just really tired. Let me just turn off the music and I’ll be right in, okay?”

“Sure honey.” Jake glances around the studio and Clarke sees the grief in his eyes for just a moment before he shoots her a smile. “Don’t take too long, okay?”

Clarke just nods her head as he leaves. So maybe her dad is pretending to be okay just as much as she is. She sighs.

“Seriously, Murphy had a good question.” Bellamy is suddenly standing in front of her. “Why can you see us, but your dad can’t?”

“How am I supposed to know the answer to that?” Clarke throws her hands in the air. “I don’t know what’s going on here any more than you do.” She stomps over to the CD player, turning it off. “But what I do know is that I have to go have dinner.” 

Without a backward glance, Clarke storms from the studio and heads to the house. She’ll deal with the ghosts later.

* * *

“Auntie Callie is here to save the day.”

Clarke’s eyes widen as she turns to her dad. Their eyes immediately fall to the spot where they have a place set for her Abby, even though she’s not there anymore. Clarke makes a dive for it, shoving it onto the empty chair, and barely gets settle before her aunt is walking into the dining room.

“Hi, Aunt Callie.” Clarke beams up at her aunt. 

“Callie. You’re here. Again.” Jake’s voice betrays his annoyance while his face remains passive.

Callie looks between Clarke and Jake, grimacing. “Well, I brought a casserole for dinner for tomorrow because surprise, surprise—you’re eating pizza again. You know Clarke needs her vegetables. She’s a growing girl.”

“Pretty sure I’m about as grown as I’m going to get, Aunt Callie.” Clarke shakes her head. Callie is her mom’s sister and she’s been “helping out” since Abby passed away—much to both Clarke and her dad’s chagrin. 

“You’re far from grown.” Callie frowns as she looks down at her. “Grown people don’t get booted out of their music program.”

Clarke chokes on her pizza as Jake turns his head to look at Clarke, humming. “They sure don’t, do they?”

“You did, of course, get the email from the school, right?” Callie asks innocently as she watches Jake. 

And this is the exact reason why Jake hates it when Callie comes over. She’d offered to take Clarke after Abby had died—something about not wanting to put too much pressure on him—but Clarke knows that she just doesn’t think that Jake can take care of Clarke. She’s still trying a year later and honestly? It pisses Clarke off.

“Of course I got the email. We’re taking time to think on it before we have another conversation about it,” Jake says calmly, but Clarke can hear the anger simmering at the edge of his words. She just doesn’t know if he’s mad at her or her aunt—or both. 

“Whoa, I love what you guys have done with the place. Nice upgrade.”

Clarke’s head jerks toward the entryway to find Bellamy, Miller, and Murphy admiring the house.

“Yeah, I guess it’s pretty dope.” Murphy shrugs.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Clarke hisses, forgetting for a moment that she’s not alone.

“Excuse me?” Her aunt looks taken aback.

“Clarke!” Jake’s eyes are wide. 

Clarke laughs, but it sounds forced even to her ears. “I mean, you’re supposed to be at yoga Aunt Callie. I’m sorry it’s just been a long day. But we’ve got this. You should go to yoga.”

Callie narrows her eyes at Clarke for a moment before turning to Jake. “I would like to be kept up to date on what’s going on with Clarke getting back into the music program, please.”

“Of course.” Jake nods, waiting until her aunt is gone before turning back to Clarke. “Would you like to tell me about being kicked out of your music program?”

Clarke looks down at the table, eyes tearing up at her dad’s tone—the disappointment is clear. This is the conversation she’s been dreading. “I just couldn’t do it, Dad. I couldn’t play. And if you don’t play, they don’t let you stay.”

Jake sighs. “Honey, I know that music is all wrapped up in your mom for you and I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do, but you have so much talent. I would hate to see you waste it.” He clears his throat. “Now with that being said, you can’t keep things like this from me. We don’t need to give your aunt any more ammunition to think I’m not doing a good job.”

“I know.” Clarke swipes at her tears, glancing over her dad’s shoulder to see that the guys have disappeared again. 

_ Assholes. _

She meets her dad’s eyes and she knows that he’ll support her in whatever choice she makes, but she doesn’t want to disappoint him. “I won’t keep anything else from you.” 

_ Liar. _

She’s already keeping the band from him, but she can’t even imagine how she’d explain it to him. She and Jake both jump when music suddenly blares from her mom’s studio.

Jake frowns, looking out the window. “What is that?”

“Uhhhh….” Clarke jumps out of her chair. “Maybe it’s the CD player—it’s ancient after all.”

“Hey, watch your mouth, young lady,” Jake says, but there’s no bite to his words and he’s smiling. “That CD player is younger than I am.”

Clarke laughs. “Oh, I know what I said.” She dodges the napkin he throws at her, laughing as she ducks out of the house. She runs down to her mom’s studio, throwing open the door to find the guys playing their instruments.

“What the hell are you doing?” she yells as she rushes in, making sure to pull the door shut behind her. “My dad heard you guys playing!”

Bellamy stops playing and swings toward her. “I’m sorry, did you say your dad heard us?”

Clarke comes to a sudden stop, realizing that her dad had indeed heard them, but he hadn’t seen them. How is that possible? “Yes,” she says, confused. “I don’t know how.”

“Holy crap! People can hear us play? That’s rad.” Murphy plays another cord, a grin on his face.

“Wait, I don’t get it.” Clarke looks between the three. “How can you hold those?”

Bellamy shrugs. “Dunno. We just can.”

Clarke bites her tongue to keep herself from snarking back at him. She doesn’t know what it is about him, but there’s just something about him that makes her want to argue with him. Maybe it’s because he just seems so damn cocky—not that she can blame him. If she looked like him, she’d be cocky too.

“Well, you need to keep it down. I had to tell my dad that it was the CD player. The whole neighborhood could hear you.” She throws her hands up in the air. “Look I can’t deal with this—with you. You guys need to leave.”

“Leave? And go where?” Bellamy demands as he steps closer to her.

“I don’t know! Go wherever ghosts are supposed to go!” She stalks toward the door. “Why don’t you go find a nice, old mansion to haunt?”

“I mean, that could be fun.” Murphy looks like he’s considering it when Miller throws a drumstick at him. “Ow, don’t hit me with your damn drumstick.” He throws it back at Miller who catches it.

“Whatever,” Clarke huffs as she heads for the door. “Just get out.” She shoves through the door. Maybe she should just go to bed and be done with this day. Maybe they’ll be gone when she wakes up in the morning and she won’t have to deal with them anymore. 

Bellamy suddenly appears in front of her and she lets out a screech. “Don’t do that!” Her hand goes to her chest as her heart feels like it’s going to beat out of her chest. 

“Look, I’m sorry.” Bellamy looks pained as he says it. “We don’t mean to be a pain. I know we’ve just dropped into your life. You didn’t ask for it any more than we asked to be dead, but we’re here.” A smile spreads across his face. “And people can hear our music. Do you know what that means to us?”

Clarke lets her head drop. She does know what it means to them. Making music and having others hear it was one of the most amazing highs she’d ever felt—when she could still play. “Yeah,” she says softly. “It’s just been a bad day.”

“I get it and I’m sure that us being here isn’t making it any better. But do you know how rad it is to know that others can still hear us play? That we can get a second chance to make the music that we never got to when we were alive? That being dead doesn’t have to stop us?” He pauses for a moment, sobering. “Your mom was into music, wasn’t she?”

Clarke glances toward the studio. “Yeah. She was.”

“I thought so. When did you lose her?” This is a side to Bellamy she hasn’t yet seen. He seems softer now, less cocky—almost like someone she could be friends with. 

“A year ago.” She sighs, waiting for the sadness to overwhelm as it always does, but it doesn’t and she doesn’t know why. 

“I’m sorry, Clarke,” Miller says quietly. 

Clarke turns her head to see him and Murphy leaning against the stone wall next to the walkway. She gives him a small smile.

“Yeah, that sucks. Losing a parent is hard.” Murphy shrugs like it’s no big deal, but she sees the pain in his eyes.

“Your mom was an amazing songwriter,” Bellamy says, voice still soft.

“She was.” She smiles to herself before she realizes what he said. “Wait, how do you know that?” Had they seen her mom? Was she here somewhere? If so, why can’t she see her? That’s not fair.

Bellamy clears his throat. “There’s a song on the piano. We looked at it. It’s good—really good.”

Clarke frowns. “She wrote songs for a living. She was amazing.” She pauses. “You guys haven’t seen her around here have you?”

Bellamy shakes his head. “No, I’m sorry.”

“Right, of course not. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Clarke forced herself to smile. “Look, I’m sorry about the way I reacted. Of course, you guys can stay here. Just no playing when I’m not here, yeah?”

Bellamy nods. “Yeah, that makes sense. Well, good night.”

“Good night guys.” Clarke gives them a small wave before continuing to the house.

How did this become her life? Why is she being haunted by three musically-inclined ghosts? It doesn’t make sense. She laughs to herself. Yeah, because that’s the part that doesn’t make sense. Maybe things will seem better in the morning. 

She sure hopes so.

* * *

Clarke grabs an apple from the bowl on the counter as she calls out, “I’m going to head to school Dad! See you later!”

“Have a good day, sweetheart,” her dad responds from his office.

Clarke makes her way out to the studio, figuring that she should check on the guys. She doesn’t know if ghosts have to sleep or not—honestly, there’s a lot about ghosts she doesn’t know. She tried to research it last night before bed and that had not gone well.

“Guys?” she calls out as she pushes open the door. She looks around and doesn’t see him, but she knows that doesn’t necessarily mean anything so she tries again. “Guys?”

When she still doesn’t receive a response her eyes fall to her mom’s piano. She walks over, running a hand along the top of it as she walks around to the bench. She takes a deep breath before sitting down. A paper catches her eyes and she realizes that it’s the song that the guys must have seen. 

Her hands move to the piano and she begins to play the song before she even realizes it. She bites her lip before beginning to sing the words her mother had written—beautiful words that need to be out in the world. 

As she continues to play, to sing, her heart bursts open. She feels alive for the first time in a year and she can’t believe that she hasn’t played before now. Doesn’t understand what was holding her back before that no longer is. But she doesn’t care. 

Her head drops, fingers stilling on the keys as the song ends and she feels closer to her mom than she has since she died and it brings a smile to her face.

“Holy crap! You’re playing again! You sound amazing!” Octavia’s smile is bright as she looks down at Clarke.

“O? When did you get here?” Clarke’s glad to see her best friend, but she’d been so lost in playing that she hadn’t heard her come in—not as uncommon as one would think when she’s playing.

Octavia shrugs. “Pretty much from the beginning, but you were playing again. And singing! I didn’t want to interrupt. You know what this means right?”

“No, what?”

“We need to let Diyoza know so that you can get back into the music program.” Octavia squeals. 

Clarke sighs. “Pretty sure that boat has sailed.”

Octavia shakes her head. “Chin up, you won’t know until you try.”

“Emily?” 

Clarke turns to see Bellamy standing in the doorway, jaw dropped and looking like he’s seen a ghost.

Emily? Who’s Emily?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy discovers that Clarke has a special connection to his old life while Clarke figures out how to get back into the music program at school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Welcome to a new chapter!! I have a semi-regular updating schedule now. For now, I currently have two WIPs, so you will see an update every other week for now. When I add a third, it will move to every three weeks and so and so forth. But regular updates will now be a thing! Also, the number of chapters has been updated as I have fully outlined the fic now!
> 
> Also, this is a WIP for a prompt submitted via @t100fic4blm. You can currently request a chapter of this story for a donation. This means that it will be finished sooner than the expected date. I, along with many other talented and creators are currently taking prompts via t100fic4blm. Please check out [our carrd here](t100fic-for-blm.carrd.co) to see what we're all about. Is there a story idea that you want to read? A song you KNOW needs to be made into a video? Or want a fic trailer done for your fic (because I'm getting quite good at those lol). If you want to donate, but don't know what to prompt we've got you covered there too with [our new prompt board.](https://www.notion.so/t100-Fic-for-BLM-Prompt-Ideas-b71c84406c884099a9682133636abc09)
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Bellamy appears outside of the garage, eyes landing on Murphy and Miller as they appear next to him. He shakes his head. They’ve been practicing traveling like this, but it’s still weird to him. It blows his mind that they can just poof into existence anywhere that they want. 

His attention is drawn to the garage— _ Clarke’s mom’s studio _ , he reminds himself. There’s music making its way through the doors, but it doesn’t sound like it’s coming from any speakers. Bellamy’s brow furrows as he looks at the other guys who just shrug. He returns the shrug before heading over to the windows in the garage door. He peeks inside and his jaw drops open.

“Holy crap, that’s Clarke.” Bellamy can barely believe his eyes. She never said that she could sing or play—just that her mom could. He turns to the guys again and they look just as shocked as him. 

When Bellamy turns back to the window, he notices a petite brunette inching her way closer and closer to where Clarke is playing the piano, eyes shut as she sings. He tilts his head to the side—there’s something about her that seems familiar. 

He doesn’t think about it, but suddenly he’s on the other side and moving closer toward the mystery brunette—having completely forgotten about Clarke. He doesn’t notice when she stops playing or when the other girl begins to speak with her. He freezes when his eyes land on her face.

He doesn’t know how it’s possible, but it’s his sister. It’s Emily.

“Emily?” he whispers it, but the words resonate throughout the room, drawing Clarke’s eyes to him. 

Emily keeps talking, or the girl that looks just like her because how could it be Emily? Emily had been fifteen when he’d died twenty-five years ago, so she’d be forty now. There’s no way that this girl can be his sister, but she looks exactly like her. 

Bellamy’s eyes land on Clarke who gives a quick shake of her head when she sees that she has his attention. His eyes move back to the other girl and it feels like someone is squeezing his heart as he fights tears. He knows logically that this can’t be his sister, but he can’t stop the pain.

“Look, O,” Clarke cuts off the brunette that looks so much like his sister. “We’re going to be late. We need to head to school.”

The brunette nods and links arms with Clarke, starting to lead her to the door. She’s just going to leave him with questions and no answers. He can’t deal with that. She has to tell him how this girl looks so much like his sister. 

Suddenly Clarke comes to a stop. “Can you go ahead? I just need another moment here.”

The brunette gives her a strange look, but shrugs and then nods. “Sure, I’ll see you at school, I guess.” 

Clarke watches her walk out before turning to face Bellamy. “Who’s Emily and why did you call Octavia that?”

Bellamy, who had been watching the girl—Octavia—walk out, turns back to Clarke with a sad smile. “She is—was—my sister. Your friend looks just like her.”

Clarke’s brow furrows as she considers him for a moment before her eyes widen. “Emily is her mom’s name. Oh my God,  _ you’re _ the brother that died when she was a teenager. Is  _ that  _ why you guys appeared to me?”

“I don’t know.” He glances back toward the door as if he could see his niece still, but instead finds Murphy and Miller staring back at him, sympathy written all over their face—they knew how close he and his sister had been. He shakes his head before looking back to Clarke. “Is she happy?”

Clarke nods. “As far as I know, yes. She’s married to my dad’s best friend, Marcus—that’s Octavia’s dad. He’s a real estate agent and she’s a nurse. They seem really happy.”

“That’s good.” Bellamy nods, fighting tears. How could he not have thought about his sister sooner? How could she not have been his first thought? How had they never thought of their families? How could they be so selfish?

“Look, I’ve got to get to school. I can’t be late.” Clarke sounds sorry, but what does she have to be sorry for? How could she have known that he would be having a ghost life crisis this morning?

He nods. “Of course, go to school. Have a good day.”

“Are you going to be okay?” she asks and it looks like she wants to reach out to him, but realizes she won’t be able to touch him. 

“We’ve got him, Clarke. Go to school,” Miller says as he steps up beside Bellamy, Murphy at his side.

Bellamy sees Clarke hesitate before leaving. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to grasp at his emotions which are all over the place. 

A hand lands on his shoulder, squeezing lightly before Murphy asks, “Are you okay, man?”

“Do you need anything from us?” Another hand lands on his shoulder, Miller’s this time. 

While Bellamy appreciates their concern, there’s nothing either of them can do for him. He needs to see his sister. He shrugs off their hands. “I need to see her.” Then he blinks away, not caring if they follow him.

Clarke screams when he appears in front of her, drawing funny looks from some people across the street. She pulls out her phone and brings it to her ear as she shoots him a glare. “Hey, what’s up?” She keeps walking so Bellamy steps out of her way and walks alongside her.

“I want to see my sister. Can you tell me where they live?” Bellamy can feel her eyes on him, but he keeps his eyes forward. 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

He shrugs. It’s probably not, but he has to see her. “Does it matter?” Clarke’s quiet for a moment before she tells him the address. Bellamy’s brow furrows because he recognizes it. That’s the house they grew up in. “But that’s where we lived growing up, does my mom live with them?”

Clarke shakes her head sadly. “No, Octavia’s grandma died a few years back. I’m sorry, Bellamy.”

Bellamy squeezes his eyes shut. So much has changed, which makes sense—it has been twenty-five years, but it’s too much all at once and it hurts. He shakes his head. “Thanks, Clarke.”

He blinks away. 

The house looks exactly like he remembers, but the cars in the driveway are different. His and Emily’s bikes aren’t strewn across the front lawn. He doesn’t know how long he stands out front, but movement in the window draws his attention. 

Emily.

He blinks inside and there she is—older, but just as beautiful. She’s older than he’ll ever be—hell, she has a kid that’s almost as old as him. But she looks happy and for some reason that brings tears to his eyes. He wonders what it had been like for her and their mom when they’d found out he’d died. 

“Em, you’re going to be late.” A man in a suit steps into the kitchen, a smile on his face. This must be Marcus, the husband. He leans down and kisses Emily and Bellamy smiles. They look like they’re in love.

“I’m going now. You’re in charge of dinner tonight.” Emily grins as she brushes another kiss to his cheek before brushing past him toward the door.

Bellamy follows his sister, not ready to let her out of his sight. He’s missed her. He watches as she grabs her keys from a bowl on a table near the door before pausing in front of a picture. Her eyes fall shut as Bellamy moves closer. 

It’s a picture of him, Emily, and their mom Aurora. It had been taken not too long before he died and they all looked so happy. It tears at his heart as Emily reaches over, brushing a finger across first his face and then their mom’s face.

“I miss you guys. Love you.”

Then she’s gone and Bellamy is dropping to his knees. It’s too much. Two hands land on his shoulders again and he knows that his friends have followed him, but he can’t deal with them right now. 

“I need to be alone.” He doesn’t wait for an answer as he blinks away. He needs to process this information alone, deal with the grief that he didn’t realize he’d have to deal with. His mom is dead and his sister is happily married with a kid almost his age. Life carried on while he’s been gone and he doesn’t know how to deal with it and until he does, he needs to be alone.

* * *

Bellamy walks around Clarke’s room, looking at the books on her shelves. Nothing overly interesting, but man, he misses reading. His eyes fall back to Miller and Murphy who are also walking around checking out the room. They’d let him have his time alone that morning, let him come to peace with “what is” on his own, and had been kind enough to not mention it when he’d shown back up this afternoon. 

Now, they’re bored and waiting for Clarke to be done with school. He’s pretty sure she’s going to freak out about them being in her room, but also, he just can’t find it in himself to care. Being a ghost is really boring. 

Bellamy’s eyes land on a box on Clarke’s shelf, reaching out to touch it—annoyed when his hand goes straight through it. They’d managed to call their instruments to them while they’d been at the pier earlier and people had heard them play which had been amazing, but they’d disappeared as soon as they’d stopped playing. They’d spent the rest of their day trying to pick stuff up and trying to make it appear in their hands. 

So far the only thing that they’ve been able to call to them is their instruments and picking things up has been hit or miss. He doesn’t know what it is about this box, but he’s sure that it holds something important. And he only feels a twinge of guilt over trying to invade Clarke’s privacy. Honestly? He really just wants to figure out why she can see them and no one else can. It doesn’t make any sense.

Clarke pushes open the door to her room and lets out a scream before shutting her door quickly. “No. This is not okay. You cannot be in my room.”

“What else are we supposed to do, Princess?” Bellamy smirks as he points to the tiara sitting on her shelf.

“Nope, this room is off-limits. Period. We need to set some boundaries if you guys are determined to stay here.” Clarke closes her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath.

Murphy laughs. “You make it sound like you don’t want us around.”

Clarke’s eyes pop open and she narrows her gaze on Murphy. “Well, if you would stop giving me a reason to not want you around, we’d be good.”

“What’s in the box, Princess?” Bellamy asks, eyes on the box once more. He doesn’t know  _ why _ he wants to know, he just knows that he has to know.

“Stop with the princess nonsense please, I’m not a princess,” Clarke practically growls. “And stay away from that box. It’s none of your business. It’s girl stuff.”

“Ohhhh.” Murphy nods. “Like glitter and pink stuff, right?”

Miller slaps the back of Murphy’s head. “You’re an idiot.” He turns to Clarke with a grin. “But look at what I learned today.” He reaches over and focuses before reaching out to pick up a picture from her dresser, walking over to the bed. It falls out of his hands and hits Murphy on the head.

“Seriously?” Murphy kicks at Miller who quickly dodges.

“Knock it off!” Clarke rushes over and picks up the picture, brushing her hand over it to make sure it’s okay.

Bellamy sinks on the bed to take a look at it. “Is that you and your mom?”

Clarke’s smile is soft and a little sad. “Yeah.” She nods before narrowing her eyes at all of them. “And it’s my favorite so hands-off. Find something else to practice on.”

“Oh, Clarke. Look what else we learned,” Murphy says before his bass appears in his arms and he looks up at her grinning.

Clarke’s mouth quirks, brow furrowing, and Bellamy guesses that she, like them, is trying to figure out how that’s possible. There’s a knock on the door before it’s pushed open. 

Clarke spins around, a smile on her face as her dad appears in the doorway. “Hey, Dad.”

“Hey, Clarke.” He looks around her room, a frown on his face. “I thought I heard you talking to someone.”

“Oh!” Clarke grabs her phone off the bed where she’d dropped it earlier and holds it up. “I was taking notes on my phone.”

Jake nods slowly as Bellamy looks at the other guys. It seems like he still can’t see them. It still freaks Bellamy out a little that other people can’t see them and it kind of makes him feel like a creep for being there for a conversation where some people can’t see them. 

“Working on a new song?” Jake asks, just a hint of hope in his words.

Clarke shrugs. “Maybe.”

“That’s wonderful, honey. It was great to hear you play again.” Jake grins. “No pressure, of course.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

Jake nods. “Okay, I’ll leave you to it then. Love you.”

“Love you, too, Dad.” Clarke’s smile drops the moment that the door shuts behind him and she turns to pin them with her glare. “This is another reason why this room is off-limits. We can only talk in the studio, I do not need my dad thinking I’m crazy.”

Murphy shrugs as he fingers at his bass, though he’s not playing it. “Maybe you should just tell him. He seems supportive.”

Clarke snorts. “He’s very supportive and if I tell him I’m seeing the ghosts of three teenage rockers, he’s going to put me away, or at the very least send me to see Dr. Tsing again. And trust me when I tell you, I do not want to see that woman ever again.”

While Clarke and Murphy are talking Bellamy stands up and makes his way to the box again. He still doesn’t understand, but it’s screaming at him for attention. “Princess….what’s in the box?”

“Seriously?” Clarke sounds pissed. “I told you, it’s private. Leave it alone.”

Bellamy turns to her, wrinkling his nose. “I need to know what’s in it.”

“No. It’s none of your business.” Clarke looks like she’s about to explode on him, but he can’t seem to stop. Something is drawing him to the box. Bellamy reaches for it but stops when Clarke suddenly appears beside him. “You’re not going to stop are you?”

Bellamy shrugs. “I would if I could, but something is drawing me to the box. I can’t stop.”

Clarke sighs, reaching for the box. She runs her hand over it, eyes locked on it when she speaks. “It’s my dream box.”

“What’s a dream box?” It’s Miller that asks, but the question had been on the tip of Bellamy’s tongue as well. 

“It’s where I put my thoughts. Sometimes I have to put them on paper so that I can get them out of my head.” She shrugs, still not looking up and for a moment Bellamy wonders if they pushed too hard, but he finds himself wanting to push a little further.

“Things like lyrics?” he asks.

Clarke looks up at him and there are tears in her eyes. “Like I said, it’s personal. And I don’t write—that was my mom.”

“Yeah, but you also didn’t tell us that you sing—which you most definitely can,” Murphy chimes in from the bed. 

Clarke blushes as she shoves the box back onto the shelf. “I haven’t sung since my mom died and I thought that I couldn’t anymore, so I didn’t mention it.” She shrugs. “You know what? I’m done talking about this. Get out, all of you. I’ll come down to the studio after I’m done with my homework. And we’ll be setting some boundaries for as long as you’re here.”

Miller holds up his hands in surrender before making his way to the door, Murphy following close behind, the bass still in his hands. Bellamy stands there an extra moment, eyes locked on Clarke.

“Didn’t I tell you to get out?”

Bellamy shrugs. “Yeah, but I’m not very good at following instructions.”

“You have made that perfectly clear.” Clarke rolls her eyes, pointing toward the door. “Out.”

“Whatever the Princess says,” he smirks as he heads for the door.

Clarke must throw a pillow at him because one passes through him and hits the door. He turns around and winks at her before ducking through the door. She’s cute when she’s mad.

* * *

Bellamy doesn’t know what time it is, but Miller and Murphy had left the studio to go out and explore and he hadn’t felt like tagging along so he’d made his way to the house. Now he’s standing in Clarke’s kitchen, having managed to get the fridge door open as he just stares in it. He misses eating. He used to love eating.

“Bellamy!” Clarke comes around the corner, bringing a hand to her chest when she sees him. She’s in her pajamas and she looks adorable.

Bellamy shakes his head. He needs to stop thinking of her as cute. She’s alive and he’s dead—no way will that ever work out. 

“What are you doing in here?” she asks as she reaches into the fridge and grabs a yogurt, shutting the door.

“Princess! Do you know how long it took me to open that?”

Clarke turns around and pins him with narrowed eyes. “You need to stop with the princess thing. My name is Clarke as you well know, so call me Clarke.”

Bellamy shrugs. He’s going to keep calling her Princess because he likes the way her nose flares up when he calls her that. But let her think that he’s going to call her by her name for a bit. He is actually here for a reason and he should probably stop pissing her off in the meantime.

“What are you doing up here, anyway? I thought we agreed that you guys were going to stay out of the house?” Clarke opens her yogurt as she settles onto a stool.

“I actually came up here to talk to you, but got distracted.” Bellamy’s eyes fall to the fridge again. “I miss food.”

Clarke laughs, shaking her head. “So you came up here to talk to me? About what?”

“I heard you and Octavia—that’s her name, right?” He pauses, continuing when she nods, “I heard you guys talking this morning about talking about getting back into your music program. I wanted to see how that went.”

Clarke’s face falls. “It didn’t. They’ve already filled my spot. They said I can reapply next semester, but by then it’ll be too late. I won’t be able to include it on my college applications. I asked and Diyoza said no, there’s not really much else I can do.”

“Wrong!” Bellamy shakes his head. “Do you think that the band got where we got by asking permission? No way, man. You have to take what you want. We once played outside of this guy’s house so that he’d give us a spot in a showcase.”

Clarke blinks at him. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. It’s always better to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission.” Bellamy grins at her before pulling a paper from his pocket. “Look, I have a song that I think would be great for your voice. You could sing it for your teacher and get your spot back.”

“I don’t know…”

“C’mon, Clarke! Live a little!” Bellamy leans against the counter next to her and he can see her wavering. He doesn’t want her to waste her talent—she has a chance where they don’t. She can’t waste it. She’s too good.

Clarke smiles as she rolls her eyes. “Fine, show me this song.” 

Bellamy flattens the paper onto the counter and goes through it with her, talking her through his thoughts. “It’s perfect for you, Clarke.”

“Thank you, Bellamy.” Clarke’s eyes meet his and for a moment he forgets how to breathe. He doesn’t know how he never noticed how beautiful she really is. Clarke clears her throat, glancing down at the song again. “You’re sure you don’t mind if I sing your song?”

“Not at all. It’s something we never got a chance to record. It deserves to see the light of day, ya know?” Bellamy tries to hide how much it hurts that they never really got their chance. Dying just before their big break really irks him, but there isn’t anything he can do about it now is there?

Clarke nods as she finishes her yogurt, reaching for the paper. “Thank you. I mean that Bellamy.”

“You’re welcome.” Bellamy watches as she makes her way upstairs with a sigh. He knows that she’ll blow it out of the water and he’ll make sure that they’re there for her, but part of him is jealous of her having this chance. He glances at the fruit in the basket on the counter wistfully. 

He really misses food.

* * *

Bellamy blinks into the school gym, Murphy and Miller blinking in right behind him. Clarke is a few feet away from them with Octavia and she says something to her before making her way over to them. 

In the middle of the gym is a group of five girls dressed in bright barely-there outfits, colored wigs on their heads as they sing. They’re good, but it’s obvious that this show is meant to showcase the petite blonde in the front. 

“Damn, I miss high school,” Murphy mutters, eyes never leaving the girls.

Bellamy rolls his eyes as Clarke stops in front of them. “What are you guys doing here?”

“You think we’d miss your big moment? Sticking it to the man?” Bellamy grins. “We came to support you.”

Clarke tries to smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes as she looks back at the group out on the floor.

“Who’s that?” Miller asks quietly.

“Josephine Lightbourne.” Clarke sighs. “She used to be my best friend, but when we got to high school I apparently wasn’t cool enough for her. I haven’t really talked to her in four years.” She shrugs and doesn’t look away as the music ends.

“Don’t forget to check out my Youtube channel for our newest video. We’re Dirty Josie and we love you.” She flounces off the floor, the other girls following her. The applause fills the room. They seem to love them. To each their own, Bellamy guesses.

Bellamy’s eyes fall to Clarke as two adults make their way to the middle of the floor and begin talking. He snaps his fingers in her face and she turns to him blinking. He nods toward the stage. “Look, there’s a piano. You’re gonna rock this.”

Clarke glances at the stage before turning back to him. She nods, straightening her shoulders as she makes her way over. The assembly ends and people are making their way out. 

Bellamy bites his lip as he sees Clarke’s hands hesitate over the keyboard. He smiles when she starts playing his eyes falling to the people milling around. 

_ Pay attention, _ he wants to yell, but they couldn’t hear him even if he did. He mouths the words along with her as people begin to stop to listen to her. She sounds amazing. He wishes that he could be up there with her. He wishes they could be playing with her. 

Suddenly he’s on stage, playing along with her. His eyes fall to the guys who have also appeared and on Clarke who looks just as shocked as he feels.

“What?”

“Where did they come from?”

“How?”

Bellamy can barely hear the voices over the music, but he thinks that they can see them. He leans over and begins to sing the chorus as the crowd cheers. Holy crap. They can see them!

They jam out, Clarke picking up her mic to make her way over to him. He continues to play as he leans away from his mic. “Are you seeing this? They can see us!”

“I know,” she hisses, still smiling. “Just keep playing.”

Like he needs to be told to keep playing. He loses himself to the song. This is what he was meant for—to play music in front of crowds. It’s the only time he’s ever felt alive—not that he’s alive anymore, but he’s not going to let those thoughts bring him down. 

They sound amazing—the band, not to mention his and Clarke’s voices blend perfectly. He feels like he’s on top of the world. He strums the last chord and breathes, but then they blink out and they’re back to where they were before they’d appeared on the stage.

Bellamy grins as the kids gasp. He high fives Murphy and Miller. They were on stage. They killed it.

“Where’d they go?”

“Huh?”

“Wait! Were those holograms?” one kid calls out.

“Yes.” Clarke nods enthusiastically as she points at the kid. “That’s right, they were holograms that I uploaded into the projector.” Her eyes look out over the crowd, shoulders relaxing when they land on him and the guys. She shoots him a smile as the crowd starts clapping and then it’s deafening.

“I can’t believe that they could see us while we were playing.” Bellamy shakes his head as he turns to look at Miller and Murphy.

“Well, are we sure that they can’t see us now?” Miller questions.

Murphy shrugs. “There’s only one way to find out.” He takes a deep breath before yelling, “Hey dickheads!”

Clarke’s head turns sharply in their direction, but no one else reacts. Her eyes narrow on Murphy who just smirks and waves. Bellamy bumps Murphy with his shoulder. “Knock it off.”

“Why? Because your little girlfriend doesn’t approve?” Murphy scoffs.

“She is  _ not _ my girlfriend.”

Murphy just continues to smirk at him. “Yeah, okay.”

Slowly the kids begin to filter out and Bellamy’s eyes land on Clarke as she heads toward the two adults that had been speaking to the crowd earlier. He’s assuming that one of them is her teacher so he inches his way closer. 

“That was amazing, Clarke, but like I told you before, we’ve already filled your spot.” The woman sighs. “You know that I think you’re amazingly talented, but I can’t make an exception.”

Bellamy watches Clarke’s face fall and he wishes that there is something that he can do to make it better, but what can he do? 

The other woman laughs. “Diyoza might not be able to make an exception, but I can. There’s no way that I’m going to be the principal that didn’t let Clarke Griffin back into the music program when it’s obvious that she’s going to be a huge star. Just don’t let us down, okay?”

Clarke is grinning as the two adults walk away and just as Bellamy is about to go talk to her Octavia appears in her path, hands on her hips. “Since when do you play with a hologram band?”

“I...uh…” Clarke’s smile falls as her eyes flash to them over Octavia’s shoulder. “It was recent. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you. I wanted it to be a surprise.”

Octavia snorts. “Yeah, some surprise. So where is this hologram band from?”

“Uh….Sweden?” Clarke doesn’t sound sure and Bellamy’s head drops. She is not a good liar.

“Why are you lying to me, Clarke? We’re best friends!” Octavia shakes her head. “You know what? I’m not doing this anymore. Congrats on getting back into the program, I guess.” 

Clarke watches as Octavia runs from the gym before hurrying after her. Bellamy glances at the guys who shrug. They blink out into the hallway to find Clarke looking around, Octavia nowhere in sight. There are tears in her eyes and her frustration is written all over her face.

Two girls walk up to Clarke, hand in hand, both blonde and pretty. Bellamy recognizes one of them as the main girl who had been performing when they’d arrived. What was her name? Josie?

“Clarke! That was so amazing!” the other blonde grins at Clarke.

Clarke flushes—which is interesting to Bellamy—before she answers, “Thanks, Harper.”

Josie smirks. “It was definitely better than the time she ran out in tears, wasn’t it?”

“Josie! That’s not nice.” Harper winces as she turns to look at the other girl before turning to Clarke, apology written all over her face. 

Josie shrugs. “Oh, well. We really need to get to class. You did okay, Clarke—I guess. But at least I don’t need gimmicks like holograms to be good.” Then she’s walking away, pulling Harper with her as Clarke stands there, hurt written all over her face.

What a bitch.

Bellamy and the guys blink into the next hallway over to wait for Clarke, who lets out a small yell as she turns the corner to find them waiting there. She quickly looks around to make sure that they’re alone. 

“Can you please stop doing that?” she begs.

Bellamy shrugs. “Probably not.”

Clarke rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling—which is an improvement.

“They loved you,” Bellamy says softly.

“No, they loved  _ us _ .” Clarke shakes her head. “How did that happen? How were you guys able to be onstage?”

Bellamy looks at Murphy and Miller who shake their heads. “We literally have no idea, but it was so rad.”

“It really was.” Clarke can’t seem to stop grinning. “Look, I have to get to class. I’ll see you guys after school?”

Bellamy nods and then blinks back to the studio. He’s just gonna ride this high for a while.

  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miller makes a new ghost friend while Clarke's friendship with Octavia is on the rocks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wednesday!! A new chapter for you all!! I hope that you enjoy.
> 
> Also, this is a WIP for a prompt submitted via @t100fic4blm. You can currently request a chapter of this story for a donation. This means that it will be finished sooner than the expected date. I, along with many other talented and creators are currently taking prompts via t100fic4blm. Please check out [our carrd here](t100fic-for-blm.carrd.co) to see what we're all about. Is there a story idea that you want to read? A song you KNOW needs to be made into a video? Or want a fic trailer done for your fic (because I'm getting quite good at those lol). If you want to donate, but don't know what to prompt we've got you covered there too with [our new prompt board.](https://www.notion.so/t100-Fic-for-BLM-Prompt-Ideas-b71c84406c884099a9682133636abc09)
> 
> If you're interested in seeing what else I'm writing and what my planned publication dates for that is, please check out my Tumblr post [HERE](https://sparklyfairymira.tumblr.com/post/632973715782729728/prompt-fic-updates).

Miller twirls his drumsticks between his fingers, mostly tuning out Murphy and Bellamy. After Clarke had headed to class, the three of them had poofed back to the studio where they’ve spent the last who knows how long talking about the performance. He still can’t believe that the kids could see them when they were playing with Clarke. Obviously, they’d known that they’d be able to hear them—that had been proven when Clarke’s dad had heard them playing—but how could they see them? It’s crazy to him.

How is it possible? He just doesn’t understand this ghost thing—not that any of them do. 

“We should ask Clarke to join the band,” Miller blurts out, cutting off Murphy. 

Murphy and Bellamy both turn to him, frowning. Murphy laughs. “Why the hell would we do that?” He scoffs, “No way we’re inviting Clarke to join the band.”

“Why?” Bellamy asks. 

Miller shrugs. “I mean, people could see us when we played with her. Maybe they’ll only see us if we’re playing with her.”

“We have no way of knowing that,” Bellamy says as he shakes his head. 

“Yeah, and we definitely don’t need a girl joining our band,” Murphy adds with a sneer.

Miller barely manages to hold back a sigh. “Clarke is amazing and we were amazing with her. Why  _ wouldn’t _ we ask her to join the band?”

Bellamy considers him for a moment and seems like he’s at the very least considering the idea—unlike Murphy, who rolls his eyes. “We don’t need her, Miller.”

“But what if we do?” Miller stands up and starts pacing. “What if no one will ever see us if we don’t play with her?”

“That’s dumb, Miller.” What a surprise, Murphy is being a dick. “We don’t need anyone but the three of us. If they saw us today, they’ll see us the next time—without Clarke.”

“Murphy’s right, Miller. We have no way of knowing that it was because of Clarke that they were able to see us.” Bellamy shakes his head. “I don’t think we should ask her to join.”

Murphy smirks, “I do love when you say that I’m right.”

“I really hate it when you two don’t listen to me. My opinions matter too, you know.” Miller shakes his head. “You know what? I need a break from the two of you.” 

Miller makes his way to the door, ignoring as Bellamy and Murphy call out after him. He reaches for the door to open it, but his hand just passes right through it. Damn it. He tries again, but his hand passes through the handle again. He really hates this ghost thing. How is he supposed to stalk away from his friends when he can’t even open the door?

“Miller, why are you being an idiot?” Murphy asks with a laugh. “You’re a ghost—just poof out.”

Miller turns around and pins Murphy with a glare. “Don’t tell me how to ghost.” 

He turns back to the door and tries again, but once more his hand passes right through. He really doesn’t want to admit that Murphy is right, but what other choice does he have? He poofs out of the studio.

Miller lands on the streets of downtown Arkadia, smiling as he walks down the sidewalk. He’s always loved this town. He dodges out of the way of a couple walking hand in hand just in time. Phew. He doesn’t need people to know he’s there, that would be terrible. 

“Crap,” he whispers as he barely dodges a group of kids. Then he accidentally backs right into someone else, but they pass right through him. Oh. So he doesn’t have to avoid them. Well, that’ll make this much easier. 

He continues to stroll down the street but since he no longer has to concern himself with avoiding people he lets his eyes wander. The buildings have changed so much in twenty-five years. Some of the buildings are still the same, but there are so many new ones. It’s like a whole new city. He wonders what else has changed in the years that they’ve been gone that he has yet to see. He wonders how many of the changes he’ll get to see.

“Watch out! Coming through! Beep beep!” 

Miller hears the voice but doesn’t think much of it—the person will pass right through him. Except they don’t. 

Miller goes flying forward, trying to figure out what the hell just happened. He rolls over onto his back to find a guy about his age, trying to catch his skateboard before it rolls away.

“What the heck, man?” Miller demands as he sits up. “You can’t just go around running people over….” He trails off as he realizes what he has just said. How is it that this kid was able to run him over? That doesn’t make sense. 

“Sorry, man,” the guy says as he stands up, reaching to pull his helmet off. “I thought you were just another lifer.”

Miller’s eyes widen as he stands up slowly. This guy is crazy attractive and he’s having a hard time focusing on the words coming from his mouth. He blinks for a moment before shaking his head. “I’m sorry, lifer?”

“Yeah, it’s what we call the living.” The guy offers his hand to Miller. “I’m Monty.”

“Miller.” He shakes Monty’s hand, grinning at him—probably like an idiot, but he can’t seem to bring himself to care. He also doesn’t immediately let go of the other boy’s hand, but Monty doesn’t seem to mind. Monty is cute and just his type—and he’s also a ghost. Wait, there are other ghosts? “Hold on, so there’s other ghosts?”

Monty laughs, “Wow, you must be new.” He shakes his head, eyes glancing down at Miller’s clothes before finally pulling his hand from Miller’s grasp. “Although those clothes don’t scream current time.”

“Well, we died twenty-five years ago, but we just appeared here a few days ago. Honestly, we have no idea what’s going on.” Miller shrugs but keeps grinning. He’s one hundred percent sure that he looks like an idiot—but he can’t seem to make himself stop grinning.

“We?” Monty tilts his head to the side in question, but he also hasn’t stopped smiling. Miller takes this as a good sign.

“Oh, yeah.” Miller shrugs. “Me and my bandmates. We got hit by an out-of-control bus while crossing the street.”

Monty flinches. “Ouch. Yeah, I got hit by a car skating in the street.”

“Is it impolite to ask how long you’ve been dead?” Miller has no idea how this works considering the fact that up until a few minutes ago, he’d assumed that he, Murphy, and Bellamy were the only ghosts.

Monty laughs. “No, not really?” He shrugs. “But it’s been about ten, fifteen years? It’s hard to keep track.””

Miller nods. “Cool.” They both stand there awkwardly for a moment. He needs to say something, he knows that, but what? “So-”

“I-”

Miller and Monty laugh. “You go ahead,” Miller tells him.

“I was just wondering if maybe you wanted to hang out for a bit? Maybe I could share some things I know about ghosts since you’re so new to it?” Monty sounds hopeful—or is that Miller’s imagination.

Miller grins again. “I would love that. I was actually about to ask if you had time so I could pick your brain.”

“Cool.” Monty grins back at him and Miller is finding it hard to breathe. There are definitely sparks there—there is no way that this is all in his head, right? “So were you heading anywhere in particular?” Monty says after a few seconds.

“Oh...uhh...no.” Miller shrugs. “I was just having a bit of a minor afterlife crisis?”

“Well, I’d love to hear all about it.” Monty grins as he sets his skateboard on the ground and climbs on it. “If you can keep up.” 

Miller frowns for a moment but then Monty is skating down the street and he finally gets it. “Crap,” he says to himself as he runs after Monty. He almost loses sight of him for a minute, but then he realizes that Monty has stopped next to a bench. 

Miller plops down on the bench next to him, shaking his head. “Thanks for the warning.”

“Things are so much better without warning,” Monty says with a grin.

“Yeah, okay.” Miller shakes his head. “So...ghosts?”

Monty laughs. “Straight to the point—I like it. Yeah, ghosts. There are a lot of us. Being a ghost means that you have unfinished business. If you complete your unfinished business you get to move on.”

“Unfinished business?” Miller frowns. “Like what?”

“I don’t know—a regret? Something you need to make right? It’s different for everyone.”

Miller nods, trying to think what their unfinished business could be. “Do you know what yours is?”

“No, and I don’t want to know.” Monty shakes his head. “I like being a ghost. I can skate wherever I want and no one ever yells at me.”

“Huh.” Miller guesses that makes sense. “So can...lifers? Is that what you called them?” 

Monty nods. “Yup.”

“So I know that lifers pass through us, but how come some of them can see us?” Miller asks.

“They can’t.” Monty frowns. “Wait, do you know a lifer that can see you?”

Miller nods. “Yeah, this girl Clarke can see us, and people can hear our music when we play. Oh! And Clarke’s whole school saw us when we were playing with her.” He pauses. “Is that not normal?”

Monty shakes his head. “No, not at all. Lifers can’t see us. That’s weird.” He shrugs. “Well, I’ve got to get going. Maybe I’ll see you around?”

“I’d really like that,” Miller says with a grin, watching as Monty skates away from him. He really, really hopes that he’ll get to see Monty again.

* * *

It’s a few hours later when Miller poofs back into the studio. He finds Bellamy Murphy playing something he hasn’t heard before. He frowns. “Did you guys write a song without me?”

Bellamy looks up. “Only kind of? I found a poem of Clarke’s and we put some music to it.”

“Without me?” Miller repeats. 

“Uh, yeah, that’s what we said.” Murphy rolls his eyes. “What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing.” Miller crosses his arms over his chest. 

“Yeah, that face really says nothing.” Murphy waves his hands in the direction of Miller’s face. 

Miller sighs. He doesn’t understand why he’s so annoyed that they were writing music without them—they’ve always written music on their own and as a group. But there’s just something about them doing it now that sets him on edge. He slumps down onto the couch. “I met another ghost.”

Bellamy and Murphy both stop what they’re doing and turn their heads slowly to look at him, eyes wide. “I’m sorry, would you like to repeat that sentence, Miller?” Bellamy asks.

“I met another ghost. His name is Monty.” Miller feels himself smile, even though he knows that it’s just going to give Murphy more ammunition against him. 

“Oh,” Murphy whistles. “He must be cute if Miller is smiling like that.”

Bellamy reaches out and punches Murphy. “Shut up. Don’t be a jerk.” He rolls his eyes before turning back to Miller. “Okay, but seriously, what do you mean you met another ghost?”

“I was walking around downtown and he thought I was a lifer—that’s what he says they call the living—so he thought he'd pass right through me. Except obviously, I’m a ghost so he didn’t. Knocked us both down. He gave me a little bit more information about being a ghost—apparently, it’s not that weird and there are a ton of ghosts here in Arkadia.” Miller shrugs, mind wandering back to Monty. He really was cute and Miller would really like to get to know him better.

“Well, can we meet him?” Bellamy looks eager as he asks.

Miller shrugs. He doesn’t really want to share Monty with his friends—which he is aware is selfish, but he can’t help it. He also knows that Monty can answer questions that they all have. “Sure, I’m sure that we can do that sometimes.”

“Cool.” Bellamy nods. “Oh and we asked Clarke to join the band.”

Miller stands there for a moment blinking at him. “Seriously? You’re just going to drop that on me? What made you change your mind? Because the two of you were very against it when I suggested it.”

“Does it matter why?” Murphy asks as he lifts an eyebrow. 

“Yes, it matters! I don’t understand why the two of you never listen to me.” Miller shakes his head. He’s not really sure where this anger is coming from, but he is very annoyed with them. He wonders how long he’s been holding onto this. “You act like I don’t know what I’m talking about and ignore my opinions until suddenly it’s your idea and it makes sense.”

Bellamy frowns. “That’s not what happens.”

“Yes, it is and I’m tired of this.” Miller throws his hands in the air. “Get woke, these are sensitive times.”

Murphy glances over at Bellamy and frowns before turning his attention back to Miller. “What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know,” Miller admits with a shrug. “Monty taught it to me and it seemed relevant to this situation.”

“We’re sorry we made you feel like that, Miller,” Bellamy says as he looks at Murphy. “Right, Murph?”

“No. Ow,” Murphy cries out as a pillow hits him in the face. “Okay, fine. I’ll be woke or whatever. Sorry, Miller.”

Miller nods, satisfied. “Good, that’s all I can ask. Now, what did Clarke say?

Bellamy frowns. “She said no.”

“What? Why?” 

Before Bellamy can answer the girl in question throws the door open, eyes wild as she takes them all in. “Look, I’ll join your band if the three of you help me out with something first.”

Miller glances at Murphy and Bellamy before shrugging. Even if Clarke didn’t want to join their band he’d still be willing to help her. He likes Clarke—she’s good people—and he’s pretty sure that Bellamy and Murphy both feel the same, even if Murphy won’t admit it.

“What do you need?” Bellamy asks as he stands up.

“I told Octavia that you guys were ghosts and she didn’t believe me. But she said that she’d give me thirty minutes and then meet me out here before telling my dad.” Clarke shakes her head. “If she doesn’t believe me, she  _ will _ tell my dad and I do  _ not _ want to go back to see Dr. Tsing.”

Miller’s eyes land on Bellamy who is standing there frozen. He’s sure that it has to do with the fact that he’s going to be playing for his niece who he hadn’t known existed until a few days ago. He shrugs before making his way over to lay a hand on Bellamy’s shoulder, squeezing lightly. “We’ve got this.” He turns his attention back to Clarke. “Of course, we’ll help you.”

“Thank you.” There are tears in Clarke’s eyes and Miller realizes just how upset this whole thing has her. They will definitely have to make this right for her. 

* * *

Exactly thirty minutes later Miller watches as the door to the studio opens and Octavia walks in. Her eyes dart around the space suspiciously. He gets it—he never would’ve thought ghosts were real if he hadn’t become one. But at least they have a way to prove to her that Clarke isn’t crazy. 

His eyes fall to Bellamy as Clarke rushes over to Octavia, talking to her about how there is no equipment for holograms. Bellamy’s eyes follow Octavia and she really does look just like his sister. If it’s weird for him, he can only imagine what it’s like for Bellamy. 

“Okay, guys. We ready?” Clarke asks.

“Yup,” Miller replies, noting how concerned Octavia looks as she watches Clarke move to her keyboard.

“So, this song is a poem that I wrote about you that the guys put to music.” Clarke shoots Octavia a smile and starts to play. 

The concern doesn’t leave Octavia’s face and Miller can’t help but grin because she is about to be in for a real surprise as he and the guys start playing along with her. Octavia gasps when they appear, jaw dropping. She stares for a few moments before frowning and stepping forward. She reaches out toward Bellamy, but her hand passes right through him. She shakes her head and stumbles back to the couch, crashing down onto it. Her eyes never leave Bellamy even though it’s Clarke who is singing to her. 

Obviously, he can’t see Bellamy’s eyes but he doesn’t doubt that his eyes are also locked on Octavia. As soon as they stop playing he assumes that they pop out of existence because Octavia is turning one more to Clarke.

“They’re ghosts?” Octavia asks in disbelief. 

Clarke nods. “That’s what I told you.”

“Why did that one look like my dead uncle?” Octavia’s eyes fill with tears as Miller shoves his drumsticks in his back pocket and makes his way over to Bellamy. He lays a hand on one of Bellamy’s shoulders and Murphy’s hand lands on the other.

“So, about that.” Clarke clears her throat, glancing towards them before turning back to Octavia. “He  _ is _ your dead uncle.”

“No, there’s no way.” Octavia shakes her head, adamant as her eyes sweep the area where they stand but it’s obvious she can’t see them. “Are they still here?”

Clarke nods slowly. “They are.” She bites her lip before continuing. “They were in a band called The Delinquents back in ‘95 and they died. They don’t know where they’ve been for the last twenty-five years, but they appeared in my mom’s studio and we realized that people could hear their music. And then they appeared on stage while I was playing and people could see them.”

A tear slides down Octavia’s cheek and Miller can feel Bellamy tense beneath his hand. “I knew he looked familiar when he was on stage with you, but I couldn’t figure out where I knew him from. I mean, how could I ever guess that it’s a dead uncle that I’ve never met because he died long before I was born.” She shakes her head. “How can this be possible? Why is this happening?”

“I don’t know. Neither do they. I wish I could answer your questions, but we’ve all been asking the same questions since they appeared.” Clarke pulls Octavia into her arms as the other girl starts to cry in earnest. 

“What am I supposed to tell my mom, Clarke?”

“Nothing, you can’t tell her. She won’t believe you.” Clarke shakes her head, eyes watching them over Octavia’s head. 

“It’s not fair, Clarke. She should be able to know. It’s not fair.” Octavia’s words dissolve into sobs. 

Bellamy shrugs off their hands as he steps toward the couch where the girls sit. Miller sees Clarke shoot Bellamy a warning look, but he seems to ignore it as he reaches out to Octavia. Miller doesn’t know what he is trying to do—maybe place a comforting hand on his niece’s back—but his hand passes right through her.

Clarke shoots him a sad smile, but when Bellamy turns back towards them the frustration is written all over his face. If Miller knows anything about Bellamy it’s that he hates feeling helpless and he’s sure that’s exactly how he’s feeling right now. 

“Bell-” Miller cuts off when Bellamy gives a sharp shake of his head before poofing out of the room. Miller reaches out to grab Murphy’s arm before the other boy can follow him. “Don’t.”

Murphy frowns, but nods. They need to give Bellamy time—it’s what he wants.

“C’mon, O. Let’s go inside,” Clarke says softly as she begins to lead the other girl from the studio.

Miller feels helpless. He can’t help Bellamy or Clarke and he certainly can’t help either of them with Octavia. He sighs as he poofs from the studio himself. He needs some time away from there too.

* * *

It’s a few days later that Miller runs into Monty and he can’t keep the grin off his face as the other boy skates over to him. “Miller! I was wondering when I’d see you again.”

“Well, we spend most of our time in the studio at Clarke’s. You can always come by there if you want to see me,” Miller says without meeting Monty’s eyes.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Monty grins. “So what are you up to right now?”

Miller shakes his head. “Nothing. Just taking a stroll through downtown as one does.”

Monty laughs. “No, as  _ you _ do. It’s definitely not something I generally do.” He jumps off the skateboard and nods across the street. “Come with me. I have something I want to show you.” He doesn’t wait to see if Miller is following as he runs across the street.

Miller watches him for a second before dashing after him. It’s not like he has anything better to be doing and he does want to talk to Monty some more. He trails behind Monty as he leads him down a few streets before stopping in front of the Arkadia Museum of Art and History. 

Miller raises a brow at Monty. “Are we going to steal some art?”

“No,” Monty says with a laugh as he reaches down and grabs Miller’s hand. “Just trust me.”

Miller nods because he’s not sure that he trusts himself to say anything. Monty grins and pulls him through the door. They run through the museum, past the guards and the few people that are walking through the museum. Monty leads him to a back room before coming to a stop.

“This is my favorite place in the museum.” 

Miller looks around, trying to figure out why this particular place would be Monty's favorite. There isn’t a lot of art on the walls here, but there are quite a few sculptures that are displayed around the room. His eyes land on a ramp that leads up to a small raised platform and it suddenly makes sense.

“You like to skate here.” Miller doesn’t phrase it as a question because it isn’t one. He might not know Monty well, but he does know that the other boy’s first thoughts are always of skating. 

“Exactly.” Monty grins up at him and Miller realizes for the first time that they’re still holding hands. 

Miller feels his face heat up and is very glad that it’s not obvious when he blushes. He ducks his head, grinning bashfully at Monty. He’s never met someone who he immediately felt a connection to like he feels with Monty. He doesn’t know what it means and he doesn’t know what to do with it, but he does know that it makes him happy.

“I want to show you a trick.” Monty is still smiling up at him as he drops his hand. “Will you move that bench over against the ramp?”

Miller’s eyes sweep the room until he finds the heavy concrete bench that Monty is referring to. He shakes his head as he looks back at Monty. “Yeah, I haven’t really figured out how to reliably pick anything up.” He grabs his drumsticks from his back pocket. “These are the only things I can always pick up.”

“I keep forgetting how new you are to this.” Monty grabs Miller’s hand again as he sets down his skateboard. He pulls Miller over to the bench. “Okay, so all you really have to do is focus all of your energy on your hands. Imagine your hands are solid. Try it.”

Miller sees Monty’s hands grasp the bench and bites his lip. It doesn’t sound that hard, but what if he can’t do it? He pushes past his doubts, squeezing his eyes shut. He focuses all of his thoughts on his hands, imagining that they’re solid just as Monty had suggested. 

He opens his eyes and reaches down to grab the bench, grinning when his fingers grip it instead of passing right through. He turns his grin to Monty who is smiling back at him.

“See? I told you that you could do it.” Monty nods. “Okay, now we move it.”

Miller turns his attention back to the bench. It’s heavy—not something he could have moved on his own when he was alive and he’s not what anyone would call weak—but he and Monty move it like it weighs nothing. “Holy crap, that’s rad!”

“Rad?” Monty laughs as he sits down on the bench. “You really did die in the 90s, didn’t you?”

Miller feels himself flush once more as he sits down next to Monty with a shrug. “Yeah, so?”

“So, nothing. It’s cute.” Monty looks down at his hands. “You’re cute.”

“So are you,” Miller blurts out before he can think about it. He swallows hard as they sit in silence for a moment. This is awkward. “I’m an anxious person.”

Monty turns to look at him, laughter in his eyes. “No, really? I couldn’t tell.”

“Shut up.” Miller shoves at Monty’s shoulder and the awkwardness seems to have dispersed. 

Monty reaches for Miller’s hand again, their fingers intertwining. “Do you know what always makes me feel better when I’m feeling anxious?”

Miller tilts his head as he watches Monty. “I guess?”

“Yelling in museums.” Monty pulls Miller to his feet. “You should give it a try.”

Miller shakes his head as his eyes dart around the room—they’re still alone. He can’t do that. Monty laughs. “Okay, I’ll go first.” Monty sucks in a deep breath before letting out a loud yell. “Now your turn.”

Miller bites his lip. He doesn’t want to tell Monty no, but he can’t do this. But he also doesn’t want to let Monty down. Monty who is looking up at him expectantly. He opens his mouth and gives a small yell.

“Oh, come on, you can do better than that.” Monty stands in front of him, intertwining the fingers of their other hand together. “We’ll do it together on 3. 1..2...3”

Miller lets out a yell all the way from deep inside of him and grins. He does feel better—whether that’s from the yelling or the boy holding his hands, he’s not sure. But as the two of them yell together once more, Miller knows that he’s never been happier than he is in that moment.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murphy and the boys find out that someone they thought was a friend betrayed them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's update Wednesday!! A new chapter for you all!! I hope that you enjoy.
> 
> Also, this is a WIP for a prompt submitted via @t100fic4blm. You can currently request a chapter of this story for a donation. This means that it will be finished sooner than the expected date. I, along with many other talented and creators are currently taking prompts via t100fic4blm. Please check out [our carrd here](t100fic-for-blm.carrd.co) to see what we're all about. Is there a story idea that you want to read? A song you KNOW needs to be made into a video? Or want a fic trailer done for your fic (because I'm getting quite good at those lol). If you want to donate, but don't know what to prompt we've got you covered there too with [our new prompt board.](https://www.notion.so/t100-Fic-for-BLM-Prompt-Ideas-b71c84406c884099a9682133636abc09)
> 
> If you're interested in seeing what else I'm writing and what my planned publication dates for that is, please check out my Tumblr post [HERE](https://sparklyfairymira.tumblr.com/post/632973715782729728/prompt-fic-updates).

Murphy sits on the couch, plucking at the strings of his bass as Bellamy and Clarke are bent over whatever song they’re currently working on. Murphy glances up, eyes landing on Miller who is twirling his drumsticks while he stares off into space causing Murphy to snicker. Miller is so gone over this ghost friend of his. 

Yes, Murphy is happy for his friend but he also plans to give him as much crap as possible. Personally, he’s never had any problems getting girls and neither had Bellamy, but Miller? Things hadn’t been as easy for gay teens in the 90s. One thing he is happy for in 2020 is that being gay isn’t a big deal. Unfortunately, Miller’s options are limited seeing as they’re dead and all. But he’s been spending all of his free time with—what was his name? Oh yeah, Monty. 

Murphy and Bellamy have been giving Miller crap—because of course, they had—but they do want to meet Monty. And not just because he’s a ghost who seems to know more about what’s going on than they do, but also to make sure that he’s good enough for their friend.

His eyes dart to the garage door as it’s thrown open revealing a very excited-looking Octavia. Murphy glances at Bellamy and frowns. He knows that his friend isn’t dealing with the revelation that he has a niece—a niece who is best friends with the one lifer that can see them. 

Damn it, now Miller has him calling them lifers. He rolls his eyes but makes his way over to join Bellamy and Clarke so he can see what’s going on.

“I have great news!” Octavia squeals as she reaches over to grab Clarke’s hands. 

Murphy snickers as Bellamy jumps backward so that her hand doesn’t pass right through him. He shrugs when Bellamy turns to him with a glare. What can he say? He thinks it’s funny.

“Okay…” Clarke trails off, looking at Octavia expectantly. When the other girl doesn’t immediately answer she rolls her eyes. “O, we need to work on your dramatic timing.”

Octavia narrows her eyes, frowning. “That’s no way to treat your best friend that booked you and your ghosts a gig.”

“What?” Clarke stares at Octavia blankly.

Murphy’s eyes widen as they meet first Bellamy’s and then Miller’s eyes. They have a gig? “That’s so rad,” Murphy blurts out.

Clarke turns to him and she narrows her eyes. Murphy frowns. What had he done? 

“That’s awesome, O. How did you manage that?” Clarke grins at her best friend.

Octavia shrugs. “You will be playing the school dance and it’s tonight.”

“A school dance? Wait? Tonight? Not a lot of notice there.” Murphy rolls his nose up. They’d played at Sanctum—well, they’d almost played at Sanctum before they’d, ya know, died—and now they were playing a school dance? How is that even fair?

“Shut up, Murph,” Bellamy hisses, turning his attention back to his niece. 

Clarke’s smile looks a little forced as she nods. “That’s...great, O. Thanks. Next time, maybe a little more notice?” 

“C’mon Clarke, be excited! It’s not like you didn’t play in front of them with the guys before to get back into the music program. You’re going to do great!” Octavia jumps a little as she squeezes Clarke’s hands.

Hmmmm...Murphy wonders what that comment is all about. He knows that Clarke hadn’t been able to play since her mom died—at least, not until they’d dropped into her life—but he wonders if there’s something more to it than that. 

“This is really amazing, Clarke,” Bellamy starts, his eyes locked on Octavia, “but can you ask Octavia if we can talk?”

Clarke turns her attention to Bellamy. “How do you plan to talk to her? She can’t see you unless you’re playing.”

Bellamy shrugs, considering her for a moment. “I guess we can talk through you?”

Clarke stares at him for a moment before turning back to Octavia. “Your uncle-”

“No,” Octavia cuts her off as she shakes her head. “I’m not ready for that conversation.” 

Murphy’s eyes cut to Bellamy who is frowning as Octavia steps away from Clarke—and therefore, Bellamy. Damn, he hopes that Bellamy understands the girl’s need for more time. Though it’s not like he can just surprise her. 

“O, come on.” Clarke shakes her head. “You have to deal with this at some point.”

“I’ve got to get home, Clarke.” Octavia’s eyes flash around the room. Murphy assumes she’s trying to figure out where they are but she’ll never be able to figure it out. “I’ll call you later.”

Then she’s gone and Murphy’s eyes are on Bellamy once more. Bellamy’s eyes are locked on the door that has just closed behind Octavia. “You good?” he asks as he reaches out to place his hand on Bellamy’s shoulder.

“I’m fine.” Bellamy ducks away from his hand and it’s obvious that he’s anything but fine. 

Murphy shrugs because what else is he supposed to do besides take his friend at his word—even when he knows that he’s lying. He glances at Clarke to find that she’s biting down on her lip as she watches Bellamy. He reaches out and squeezes her hand as he gives her a small smile. 

He understands what she’s feeling. Bellamy has never been someone who likes to talk about his feelings. He’s always been someone who buries them until he can’t keep them in any longer. Then they usually spill out into his music. It’s just the way he’s always been. Clarke will learn eventually.

“C’mon guys, we need to practice,” Bellamy snaps as he pulls his guitar over his shoulder. 

Murphy squeezes Clarke’s hand once more before walking over so that he can plug in his bass. “Don’t be an ass, Blake.”

Bellamy turns to Murphy with a glare and Murphy just smirks at him. He’s not going to let Bellamy’s bad mood ruin his mood. While he’s not happy that they’re playing a school dance, Murphy is glad that they get to perform. There’s nothing like the high he gets from performing in front of people. 

Bellamy strums at his guitar for a few minutes, Miller moving to his drums before shooting Murphy a questioning look. Murphy shrugs. When Bellamy gets like this they just have to let it ride until he snaps out of it. 

“So, I was thinking that we could teach Clarke some of the Delinquents songs,” Bellamy eventually says, glancing up at Clarke with an apology in his eyes.

Clarke shrugs. “I mean, I’m down. What do you have in mind?”

Bellamy nods and starts playing a familiar tune—Murphy recognizes the opening to “Get Lost” and joins in, Miller following a minute later. Murphy sees Clarke bobbing her head to the song and smiles. Damn right she likes their music.

“So you want to sample someone else’s song? That’s cool,” Clarke calls out over their music.

Murphy frowns as they all stop playing. “What do you mean by sampling someone else’s song?” he asks before he can stop himself.

“Ummm...that means play someone else’s song.” Clarke frowns and Murphy can tell that she’s confused by his question.

“That isn’t someone else’s song.” Bellamy raises an eyebrow as he glares at Clarke. “That’s a Delinquents original.”

Clarke laughs. “No, that song was released on Russell’s debut album. Trust me, I’d know. I grew up listening to his music.” When they continue to look at her dumbfounded she shrugs and reaches for her laptop.

Murphy once again finds himself amazed at how far technology has come in twenty years. He’d never even seen a laptop growing up—though he’s pretty sure they were a thing before he died, but they hadn’t even had a computer in his house growing up—none of them had. Their families had been poor, to put it plainly.

Murphy sets down his bass and crowds around the piano as Clarke presses a button and “Get Lost” begins to play. He frowns as Clarke turns the computer to face them. How is this even possible. His eyes narrow as they land on the computer. 

No way.

“Is that Rusty?” Miller demands.

Clarke rolls her eyes. “No, that’s Russell Lightbourne. You saw his daughter Carrie perform the other day at the high school. He was a big deal for a while—though none of his songs have been as good as his first album.”

“What other songs were on his first album?” Bellamy bites out, fire in his eyes.

Clarke’s face wrinkles in confusion before shrugging. “There was “Lost Weekend” and “Crooked Teeth”-”

“Those are Delinquents songs.” Bellamy slams a fist onto the piano. “I can’t believe that Rusty took our songs and said that they were his.”

Murphy understands Bellamy’s anger—hell, he’s pissed. But Bellamy had written all of those songs and for their bandmate to pass them off as his own after they’d died? What a dick.

“Really?” Clarke turns the computer to face her and types something before turning it back to face them. “These are all the songs on his first album.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Bellamy roars and Murphy is glad that he had set his guitar down—otherwise, it might have been smashed to bits at this moment. He can’t remember the last time he’d seen Bellamy this pissed off.

Miller clears his throat. “So, you know these songs? Does that mean that they were popular?”

“Popular?” Clarke laughs. “They were all at the top of the charts—something all of his other albums have struggled with since then. Which I guess makes sense since they were your songs.” 

“And he made money off of Bellamy’s songs?” Murphy asks.

Clarke grimaces. “Yeah. Like a lot of money.” She turns the computer around again and presses a few more buttons before turning it back to them.

“Why are you showing us this…” Miller trails off. “Is that a hotel?”

“No.” Clarke shakes her head, eyes flashing between the three of them. “That’s Russell’s house.”

Bellamy’s fist slams down onto the piano again and Murphy flinches. “I can’t believe the gall of this guy. Taking my songs and passing them off as his own? And he’s loaded?” Bellamy shakes his head. “Nah, man. He needs to pay for this.”

Murphy’s smile is just this side of evil. Now, this sounds like a plan he can get behind. “I’m game.”

“Ummm, guys...what are you planning?” Clarke asks, worry creasing her face.

Murphy laughs—she should be worried. His eyes land on Miller. “You in?”

“Hell, yeah, I’m in,” Miller scoffs. “Rusty barely had any talent. I can’t believe he would do this to Bellamy. Let’s do this.”

“Guys,” Clarke begins but none of them are paying attention to her as they blink out.

* * *

It takes them a few tries to find the right mansion—how the hell are there so many mansions that look so much alike in one place? It blows Murphy’s mind. But they do eventually find Rusty’s— _ Russell’s _ , Murphy corrects himself in his head—house. It’s massive and envy is boiling inside Murphy’s stomach. This could’ve been theirs—it should have been theirs. 

“Are you kidding me?” Bellamy cries out.

Murphy turns to find Bellamy standing in front of a platinum record on the wall. “What now?”

“He recorded ‘My name is Bellamy.’” Bellamy shakes his head as he clenches his fists at his side. “ _ My _ name is Bellamy.”

Murphy shakes his head. He doesn’t know why this surprises Bellamy. Russell has stolen everything from the Delinquents that he could, claiming it as his own. He finds his anger alight once more, snuffing out the jealousy.

His head turns toward the stairs when he hears the door open, a mischievous grin spreading across his lips as he realizes that it’s Russell.

“Hey, baby. I’m going to head up and meditate. I’ll order us some dinner once I’m done.”

“Okay, Daddy,” Josephine sounds distracted as she replies.

Murphy swings his head around to find Bellamy and Miller staring back at him. And now it’s time for a little bit of revenge. They all turn to the stairs as Russell makes it to the top and heads toward a room. They follow closely behind him, Bellamy and Miller making it into the room before Russell closes the door but Murphy is only halfway through the doorway when it shuts. 

He frowns as he stands there, half in the room and half out. Well, that’s annoying. He shakes his head and pushes through it, eyes scanning the room. He’s pretty sure that’s a Buddha sitting on an altar where Russell is currently lighting candles and incense. He continues to look around, taking in the decorations that seem slightly Chinese but in an American way? Honestly, it’s just tacky.

Soft chanting begins to fill the room and Murphy spins around in time to see Russell walking away from a stereo of some kind. His grin is wicked as he moves toward it. Murphy notices that Bellamy is moving toward the altar and Miller is standing behind Russell as he gets settled onto the floor. 

Murphy waits for a moment—letting Russell begin to relax or whatever—before he presses a button on the stereo that causes loud rock music to blare from the speakers. He doesn’t even try to hold in his laugh as Miller wets his finger before sticking it into Russell’s ear as his head spins to look at the stereo.

“What the hell?” Russell mutters as he wipes at his ear. His eyes narrow as Murphy presses another button on the stereo and rap suddenly fills the room. Russell shakes his head and starts to stand, jumping as all of the candles go out—courtesy of Bellamy blowing them out. 

Murphy moves to the curtains and begins to move them around, watching as Russell’s face pales. He feels a sense of pride as Russell rushes from the room. Murphy laughs, slapping hands with first Miller and then Bellamy before they follow Russell from the room. 

They make it to the hallway just in time to see Russell shut a door. Murphy shrugs and makes his way to the room, pushing through the door. He shivers a bit as he comes out the other side and pushes his way through Russell. 

Gross.

Miller and Bellamy both push into the room, disgust written all over their faces as they also pass through Russell. Murphy realizes that they’re in a bedroom and to his right is a bathroom. He grins as he rushes in and flips on the shower, making sure that it’s good and hot. 

“Josie?” Russell’s voice shakes a little and it brings Murphy so much joy. 

He should be afraid. He should be petrified. He’d screwed over his friends when they’d died and now they were back as ghosts. He would live to regret that decision if Murphy has anything to say about it. Murphy’s head lifts as he hears the doorbell chime, ringing throughout the house. He shrugs, it’s got nothing to do with him. 

Russell makes his way into the bathroom, frown firmly in place as he realizes that no one is in the bathroom. Murphy can practically see the wheels turning in his head as he tries to figure out how the shower had turned on. Russell stands there for a moment just staring at the shower as if it will tell him the mysteries of the world. 

Miller stands next to the mirror, barely containing his laughter as he lifts his hand to write on the steam-covered mirror. Russell seems to shake himself from whatever stupor he is in as he rushes over and turns off the shower. Miller begins to write just as Russell turns to face the mirror.

_ We know what you did, Rusty. _

“What the-” Russell breaks off and rushes from the bathroom. 

Murphy and Miller snicker as they watch Bellamy disappear from the bedroom. They follow Russell to the bedroom and they can no longer contain their laughter as they watch Russell strain to get the door open. Murphy sidesteps Russell and pushes through the door, Miller right behind him. 

Bellamy’s hand is wrapped around the doorknob, feet firmly planted against the door as he fights to keep the door shut. Murphy knows that Bellamy is struggling not because he’s too weak, but because he’s laughing too hard.

Finally, Bellamy lets go of the door and the three of them fall to the ground, tears streaming down their faces as they laugh. Russell barely managed to keep himself upright as the door suddenly swings open and then he’s rushing out of the door.

“Oh, hi, Clarke,” Russell says, voice distracted.

“Hello, Mr. Light…” Clarke trails off as Russell rushes past her and down the stairs.

Murphy tries to stop laughing when Clarke turns to glare at them but he can’t when he hears Russell call out, “Josie, I’m going to see my therapist. Order whatever you want for dinner.” He hears the door open and then slam shut. 

“What did you guys do?” Clarke hisses as she rushes over to them, hands on her hips.

Murphy shrugs. “We just gave him a little bit of a scare. He deserves worse.”

Clarke shakes her head. “We have a gig to practice for and you came here to torment Russell? Real mature.” She rolls her eyes.

“Clarke?” Josephine’s voice filters up the stairs. “Are you done yet?”

“You know what? I don’t have time for this.  _ I _ have a show to prepare for.” She shakes her head, disgust written all over her face. “If the three of you decide to grow up, we go on at ten.” She turns on her heel and starts to stomp down the stairs, pausing at the top of the stairs. She smiles softly as she looks down the stairs and it makes him curious as he sobers, so he makes his way over to find Josephine and Harper—he thinks that’s her name. He’s also pretty sure that the smile is for Harper. Interesting.

He hears a conversation between Clarke, Josephine, and Harper but isn’t interested in it enough to listen in. Instead, he berates himself for forgetting that they have a gig tonight. How could he have forgotten that they were supposed to play that night? He’d been overwhelmed by the desire to get back at Russell. He turns to Bellamy and Miller and from the looks on their faces he can tell that they’ve had similar thoughts. 

But then he shrugs as he glances at the clock. They have plenty of time before they have to be at the school. He turns to Miller, a devilish smile on his lips. “Do you think that your ghost friend can help us make Rusty-” he clears his throat, “Russell see us?”

“I don’t know.” Miller frowns. “But we could go ask him, I guess?”

“Yes,” Bellamy says with a nod. “We should definitely do that.”

Miller shrugs. “Well, he’s probably down by the pier. We can check there first.”

Murphy doesn’t wait to see if the others blink away or not as he flashes to the pier. He looks around, hearing Bellamy and Miller blink in beside him. “So, where do you think we can find him.”

“He’s right there.” Miller grins as he points at a boy who is currently skating down the pier, jumping onto benches and the railing every once in a while to do a trick. 

Murphy can tell the exact moment that the other boy sees them—well, sees Miller—as a smile lights up his face and he changes course to head to them. “Miller, I was hoping to see you again soon.” He hops off the board as he looks at Murphy and Bellamy. “And I assume these are your friends.”

“Brothers,” Miller says with a bashful smile. “Bellamy, Murphy, this is Monty. Monty, these are my brothers.”

Monty’s smile is contagious and Murphy feels his lips trying to turn up without his permission, so he forces his face into a scowl—smiling isn’t allowed. At least not until he gets to know this kid. Monty’s smile doesn’t falter at Murphy’s face, he just lifts a brow and turns to Bellamy. 

“It’s nice to meet you. Miller has told me a lot about you.”

“And Miller’s told us next to nothing about you,” Murphy snarks.

Bellamy reaches over and smacks him. “Please ignore Murphy. He wants people to think he’s an ass—which he is sometimes. Miller hasn’t stopped talking about you since he met you.”

Murphy snickers as his eyes land on Miller who is lucky that his skin is dark enough to cover most of his blush. He raises a brow at his friend as if to say “Guess you should’ve let me talk and not him.” 

Miller just rolls his eyes, cutting Bellamy off. “Look, we found out that the fourth member of our band stole all of our songs and we want to make him pay. So, we were hoping that you might know how to make ourselves visible to lifers.”

“Oh, that’s rough.” Monty shakes his head, obviously speaking to all of them, though his eyes never leave Miller. “But no, I don’t know how to do that. You guys might know more about that than me seeing as at least one lifer can see you.”

Murphy sighs. Of course, this kid doesn’t have any idea how to help them. Whatever, they’ll figure it out on their own—just like they’ve done most things in their lives.

“But I might know someone that can help you,” Monty says hesitantly.

Murphy’s eyes narrow. He doesn’t trust the way that Monty is hesitating but if he knows someone then they should at least talk to this person.

“Who?” Bellamy blurts.

Monty doesn’t answer the question as he pulls a marker from his pocket and makes his way over to Miller. Murphy smirks again as Monty picks up Miller’s hand because just as expected Miller begins to blush again. 

_ This is too easy,  _ he thinks with a smile but keeps his mouth shut as Monty scribbles something on Miller’s hand. 

“Just meet me here at 8:00. I’ll set up a meeting with him for you.” Monty bites his lip, not letting go of Miller’s hand.

Murphy raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment. “We’ll be there.”

“Cool.” Monty shoots Miller another smile before dropping his hand. “I guess I’ll see you then. It was nice meeting you,” he calls over his shoulder as he skates away.

“Miller’s got a boyfriend,” Murphy sing-songs as he throws an arm around Miller’s neck.

“I do not,” Miller says as he shoves Murphy away from him but he’s smiling.

Murphy slaps a hand onto Miller’s shoulder, sobering. “Seriously man, I’m happy for you.”

Miller nods. “Thanks, Murph.”

“So what do we do for the next few hours?” Bellamy asks. “And do we have enough time to meet this guy  _ and _ make it to the gig?”

“Of course we do.” Murphy rolls his eyes. “We can make it somewhere instantaneously. We’ll be fine.”

Bellamy looks like he doesn’t believe him, but shrugs. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Of course, I’m right. I’m always right.” Murphy throws his head back as he laughs. 

“Yeah, let’s not go too far,” Miller says with a snort.

As Murphy glances between his two best friends, he can’t help but be grateful that he’s here with them. Would it be better if they weren’t dead? Sure, of course. But there’s no one else that he’d want to be ghosts with.

* * *

Murphy’s eyes widen as they take in the room, pausing momentarily on the sign. “Mt. Weather Ghost Club? Why didn’t I know this was here?”

“Because no one knows it’s here unless Cage wants them to know.” Monty pops up beside them, grinning at Miller again. “I’m glad you guys came.”

“So who is this Cage guy?” It’s Bellamy that asks that question that is on all of their minds—or at least on Murphy’s, he doesn’t think anything but Monty is on Miller’s mind.

Monty barely manages to tear his eyes from Miller, turning his attention to Bellamy. “He’s the guy that runs this place,” he gestures around them. “Select lifers pay very handsomely to experience ghost shows.”

“Ghost shows?” Murphy frowns. What is a ghost show?

Monty shrugs. “It’s easier to show you than to tell you. Cage reserved us a table front and center. The show’s about to start, so we should hurry.”

Monty doesn’t wait for them to agree as he makes his way down the stairs to where tables are spread out across the floor in front of a stage. Miller doesn’t even hesitate as he follows Monty down the stairs. Murphy turns to Bellamy who just shrugs before heading down the stairs himself.

Murphy sighs, eyes falling back to the sign. Something doesn’t feel right to him but he can’t put his finger on it. And if this Cage guy can help them get their revenge on Russell? Well, then Murphy can at least give him a chance. He hurries down the stairs and by the time he hits the bottom, his friends are already seated at a table. He makes his way over and sits down in one of the chairs that are facing the stage. 

Murphy snickers to himself when Miller moves his chair closer to Monty’s, ducking his head down to whisper to Monty. They’re cute—he kind of ships it. Well, he would if he were into that kind of thing because men don’t ship people. He shakes his head as music begins to play and the curtain slowly rises. 

A voice begins to sing, but Murphy doesn’t see the man that it belongs to. Then suddenly a man in a suit that looks like it’s straight from the 1920s pops up on the stage causing a gasp to filter through the room. In quick fashion other dancers pop up on the stage, dancing along as he sings. 

Murphy settles back into his seat to enjoy the show. The music isn’t quite to his tastes—it’s a little too Broadway for him, but the guy has a good voice. He performs a set of songs before bowing to the crowd. “Don’t go anywhere, we’ll be back after a short break.” And then he disappears.

  
  


It’s obvious who the lifers are based upon their reactions as the remainder of the people on the stage poof out. Murphy shakes his head as he turns to Monty. “Was that Cage?”

Monty nods. “Yeah, he’ll come and see you guys in a minute, or at least that’s what he said.”

“I thought you said that ghosts couldn’t make themselves visible to lifers?” Bellamy asks, eyes narrowing on Monty.

“Well, they can’t usually.” Monty shrugs. “Cage has been around for a long time though and he learned how. He’s the one that makes the others visible to the lifers. I don’t know how he does it—it’s not really something that he shares with us—so he’s the only one that I know who can help you guys.”

Murphy nods slowly. It makes sense what Monty is saying. He didn’t lie to them, he just didn’t share all of the information that he knew—which Murphy gets. He figures he can let it drop for now but he’s not sure that Bellamy is going to let it drop.

“Hello boys,” a voice says from behind Murphy. “Did you enjoy the show?”

Murphy turns in his seat to find Cage standing behind him, smile firmly in place—an obvious showman. Murphy shrugs. “It was alright—not really my type of music.” 

Cage’s eye twitches but the smile never falls from his face. “That’s fair.” He turns to the others. “And what about the rest of you?”

“It was amazing,” Miller gushes. “You have an amazing voice.

Cage preens at his words. “Thank you.” He turns his eyes to Bellamy.

“It was good,” is all that Bellamy says. Murphy’s known Bellamy long enough to know that his friend does not trust the man in front of them, but neither does he. Miller has always been the most trusting of the three of them—probably because he had a normal suburban life until his parents were killed their freshman year. He only had to deal with the harshness of life for a few years before they died.

Cage lifts a brow, smile fading slightly before nodding. “I hear that the three of you are musicians as well.”

“We had a band when we were alive called the Delinquents,” Bellamy supplies.

“And now we have a band with Clarke,” Murphy adds.

Cage nods slowly. “Yes, the lifer that can see the three of you. It’s very peculiar, I’ve never heard of that happening before. And I’ve definitely never heard of ghosts being able to be seen when they play music unless it was here and that’s all thanks to me.”

Murphy, not one to beat around the bush, asks, “Do you know how we can make ourselves visible at other times? There’s someone we’d love to make see us.”

Before Cage can answer, three waiters make their way over, carrying plates full of food. 

“Why don’t you guys eat first?” Cage stands slowly.

“What?” Murphy looks up at him, perplexed. “We can’t eat—trust me, we’ve tried.”

“You can here,” Cage says with a wink. “Eat. Enjoy the show. I’ll come talk to you after the next set. I might be able to help you.”

Murphy’s eyes are wide as he looks between each of his friends, Monty, and the food. Screw it. He picks up a burger and takes a bite of it moaning, “This is the best burger I’ve ever had.”

They don’t speak for a while as they shovel food into their mouths, Monty watching them obviously amused. Murphy can’t even bring himself to care. He’s missed eating so much—he’s always loved food—and if he can eat here? He will be visiting this place regularly. 

When they finish the plates that sit on their table, more are brought. Cage doesn’t come to see them after the next set or even the set after that, but they do keep the food coming so Murphy doesn’t mind that too much. 

He hears the clock chime and his eyes find it, widening. He turns to Bellamy who looks just as bewildered as he’s sure he does. There’s no way that they’ve been here for four hours right? 

“The school dance,” Bellamy mutters, shaking his head. “Clarke is going to kill us, we have to go.”

“School dance?” Monty asks.

Miller shakes his head. “We had a gig with Clarke at 10:00 at her school dance and we are obviously very late.” He leans over, pressing a quick kiss to Monty’s lips before jumping out of his seat. 

Murphy’s eyes are wide as he watches his friend walk away as Monty lifts a hand to his lips. Murphy snickers when Miller freezes midstep, back freezing up. Man, he wishes he could see Miller’s face right now as he realizes that he’d just kissed Monty.

“Thanks for the introduction,” Bellamy says as he stands up, Murphy following suit. “Please let Cage know that we appreciate his hospitality but we have to go.”

Without waiting for an answer the two of them follow after Miller. Murphy hates that they can’t just poof out of here—they’d tried to poof in when they’d gotten here but something had prevented them from doing so.

Cage is waiting at the top of the stairs when they catch up to Miller. “Leaving so soon?”

“Yeah, we had plans tonight that we forgot about,” Bellamy says as he tries to brush past Cage but the other man stops him.

“Of course.” He holds his hand out to Bellamy who hesitantly shakes it. “Thank you for coming tonight. I hope that you will join us again sometime soon.”

Bellamy hisses and Murphy glances down to see a mark burn into Bellamy’s arm before disappearing. He frowns, getting ready to punch Cage. He doesn’t know what Cage is doing, but marking his friend is not okay.

“Don’t worry,” Cage reassures Murphy, “this stamp will allow you guys to be able to come and go from the club.”

“Oh.” Murphy pauses, thinking about it. “Do you mean we can poof in and out of here now?”

Cage nods. “Exactly.” He holds his hand out and Miller takes it quickly, biting his lip to keep from hissing in pain. When Cage extends his hand to Murphy, he frowns. 

It would be cool to be able to come and go from here as they want since they can eat here and everything. He shrugs, shaking his hand. He flinches as the mark burns into his arm. He’s not sure this is a good idea but it’s a little too late now. “Thanks...I guess?” Murphy shrugs, turning back to his friends. “Let’s go ahead and poof to the school. Hopefully, the dance is still going.”

Bellamy makes a face at him before poofing out. Murphy shrugs before following Murphy. One can hope, right?

* * *

Murphy poofs back into the studio, sighing. There hadn’t been anyone left in the gym when they’d gotten there. They’d managed to miss the whole dance. Murphy hates that they’ve done this to Clarke, but Bellamy seems to be taking it the hardest. 

“It’s okay, we’ll make it up to her,” Murphy says as Bellamy poofs in beside him.

“Will you now?” Clarke’s voice is filled with venom.

Murphy turns to find her sitting on the couch. He hadn’t realized that she’d been in here.

“Look, Clarke, we’re so sorry,” Bellamy starts but Clarke cuts him off.

“No.” She shakes her head. “I don’t want to listen to your excuses. I don’t care where you were or what you were doing. Bands are supposed to be there for one another,” she says as she stands up. “They don’t leave each other stranded at a school dance, embarrassed because they can’t perform since the rest of the band never showed up.”

“Clarke,” Miller starts.

“I said no.” Clarke shakes her head. “I knew this was a bad idea and guess what? I was right. This,” she gestures between the four of them, “is over. I’m not in your band anymore. Because I only play music with my friends and friends don’t leave friends to look like idiots in front of their entire school.” 

Clarke stalks to the door, pausing before pushing it open. She turns back to them. “You can stay out here for now, but we’re going to need to find you somewhere else to go because I don’t want you around.” She pushes out the door and she’s gone.

Murphy frowns. He doesn’t want to admit how much her words hurt him. It’s not like they’d stood her up on purpose, but he guesses that they deserve her harsh words. They did stand her up—even if it was accidental—and they were bad friends. Hopefully, they can change her mind.

He turns to find Bellamy’s eyes are still locked on the spot that Clarke had just been standing in moments before. “Are you okay, dude?”

Bellamy just shakes his head. “She’s right, we were bad friends all wrapped up in our vengeance. We weren’t fair to her.”

“We weren’t,” Miller’s voice is quiet. 

“No, shit,” Murphy scoffs. “But she’s just pissed off right now. I’m sure once she’s cooled off and had time to think it over, she’ll let us explain and she’ll take it all back.”

“I’m not sure, man. She was really pissed off.” Miller sinks down onto the couch. 

Murphy opens his mouth to reply but something jolts in his chest. His hands fly to his chest, eyes wide as they search out his friends. “What the hell was that?”

“I...I don’t know.” Bellamy shakes his head.

Murphy frowns. It had felt like he’d been struck by lightning in his chest—or at least, what he thinks it would feel like—along with a faint pull. He doesn’t know what it could be, but he hopes it never happens again. It was not a pleasant feeling. He sinks to the ground, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. At least it’s given them something to think about besides Clarke quitting the band and the fact that they’d let her down.


End file.
